Little Brother
by Karategal
Summary: Movie Verse : 2007 Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.
1. Chapter I : Jazz

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a five-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. I will probably pay the closest attention to Jazz & Optimus Prime since they seem to be the closest to Bumblebee throughout the film. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Sparkling - Newborn

Youngling - Child

Italics - Thoughts

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth days

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Little Brother - Chapter I - Jazz

* * *

The deafening silence that hung over the rolling brigade of eye-catching, rumbling cars was nearly suffocating. Blistering desert stretched for endless miles around them and the scorching heat beating down on their metallic bodies did little to calm their frazzled nerves and ominous moods. Their having gained possession of the encoding on Captain Archibald Witwicky's glasses clearly did not make up for the loss that they had just suffered at the hands of the humans.

A silver/gray hardtop Pontiac Solstice remained at the back of the group. Jazz drove at a much slower pace than the others, anger and grief radiating off of him in thick waves. He did not expect the other Autobots to comment on his behavior because of the circumstances; but even if they had, he would not have listened. He was too upset to care, quite frankly.

Jazz was positive that if any of his fellow Autobots were to see him now they would probably barely recognize him. Oh, he looked the same on the outside as he had for hundreds of vorns, but on the inside he was a mess. His mind was a jumbled mixture of anger, frustration, confusion, grief, and heart-breaking anguish. Jazz was usually a very laid-back, good-natured mech that liked to have a good time. But, right now, Jazz felt like beating the slag out of the nearest boulder. Never mind, scratch that, he felt like ripping the head off of the next Decepticon who was foolish enough to cross his red-hazed path.

He'd make them pay.

Jazz glowered, his engine revving unnaturally loud. He'd make sure that they died slow, painful deaths. They didn't deserve the honor of a proper burial. Not after all they had done to both him and his fellow Autobots. The Decepticons were the reason Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Jazz were on this strange planet to begin with.

_I swear, when I find ya Megatron I will make ya wish ya'd never been created! _he thought furiously.

Personally, Jazz found Earth and her creatures to be a fascinating discovery that he would remember for many vorns. The diverse cultures of Earth's people was among some of the most intriguing Jazz had ever seen and he would have liked nothing more than to kick back on a quiet country hill and browse the World Wide Web. Jazz was like the little reptile that humans called a chameleon. Like the chameleon, Jazz could adapt to almost any environment he was placed in and often learned the ways of a planet's people with minimal effort, unlike his fellow Autobot Ironhide.

Poor ol' trigger-happy lugnut.

But, then again, Jazz was a one of a kind and had been designed specifically by his creator to blend in with his surroundings.

Jazz had been thoroughly amused to see the surprise on the human children's faces when he had first introduced himself.

"What's crackin' little bitches?" he had said. And, "This looks like a cool place to kick it!"

The look on Samuel Witwicky's and Mikaela Banes's faces had been priceless.

What an interesting planet Earth was.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that most knew of him because of his love for the stylish and the flashy, what really made Jazz famous was his ability to keep a cool head in a tight situation.

He wasn't the head of Special Operations for nothing.

If there was a dangerous mission to be had, First-Lieutenant Jazz was the first mech Optimus Prime turned too for assistance. Not once in the thousands of vorns that they had worked together had Jazz disappointed him. Despite his small size, Jazz was a lethal wrecking machine whose quick mind, acrobatic fighting style, and calm approach towards every situation allowed him to take down Decepticons easily five-times his size. Most of the time they didn't know what hit them until it was too late. Of course, by then, heads were rolling. Literally.

Primus, Jazz loved Earth slang.

Jazz always got the job done, but not without adding a hint of style to it, of course. In Jazz's mind, there was no such thing as a Mission Impossible. If Optimus needed to get something done, Jazz would do everything in his power to get it done, one way or another.

Then again, none of those previous tight situations had involved a certain little yellow minibot that seemed to win the hearts of everyone around him, be they Autobot or alien alike.

Bumblebee was the youngest of all Autobots.

The last of the younglings.

Jazz had even heard rumors that Bumblebee was the last of their kind created, shortly before the fall of Cybertron and under Optimus Prime's careful supervision. Whether this was true or not, he wasn't quite sure, but Jazz did know for a fact that Bumblebee was _much_ younger than any other mech he had met in many, many vorns. He also seemed to hold a special place in Optimus's spark when compared to the other Autobots. Jazz wasn't complaining of course, because he was as guilty as Optimus when it came to babying the little bot. Bumblebee was the equivalent to what the humans on Earth called a pre-teen or adolescent.

Very young and, at times, very naïve.

Of course, Bumblebee's youth and naivety only seemed to fuel Jazz and his fellow older mechs tendency to be overprotective afts whenever they were assigned to a mission with the little bot. Jazz had been more than just a little outraged when he had heard that their "little brother" was following Megatron and the All-Spark to some unknown planet on his own. He'd just recovered from having the slag beaten out of him by the brute, for Primus's sake! He couldn't even _speak_ anymore!

_They're sending a _youngling_ to track down the Cube!?!?_ Jazz had thought. _Has Prime's processor gone on the fritz!?_

Outraged for a reason he couldn't quite place at the time, Jazz had stomped his way from the rec room to Prime's conference room and had proceeded to tell him and the others what he thought of Bumblebee's mission. Optimus and Prowl had been more than a little surprised at the vehemence behind Jazz's words.

"He's not ready!" Jazz had argued. "He's barely recovered! Ya can't expect 'im to follow tha' slaggin'..."

"Jazz…" Prowl had growled, fixing the Special Operations agent with a warning glare.

Ignoring the larger mech, Jazz had then turned his burning optics towards his CMO who was standing across the room, daring him to argue otherwise, "Ratchet?"

However, Ratchet never got the chance to respond because Optimus soon silenced them all with a stern wave of his hand.

"You've always trusted in Bumblebee's skills before," Optimus Prime had stated, "Even commended them when others expressed doubt. Why question him now?"

The question had shocked Jazz into silence.

_Why am I so upset?_ Jazz had thought.

He had been so shocked by both the question and the revelation that he didn't know _why_ he was so distressed by Bumblebee's new mission that Jazz did something that he had not done in thousands of vorns.

Jazz, the infamous master of coolness and calm, lost control and blew a fragging gasket. Or, at least, that's how Sunny and Sides had described his little bout of madness.

To make a long story short, Jazz had ended up in the brig after that little tantrum.

Prowl had threatened to throw him overboard and deactivate him if he ever threw something big and hard and sharp at him or Prime ever again. What could he say, he was an overprotective "big brother" and a Pit-fragging aft when he wanted to be, which wasn't very often. The look on Sunny's and Sides's faces as he was being hauled down to the brig was priceless. Apparently, his thrashing legs had caused quite a bit of destruction when turning the corner near the mess hall.

As Jazz always said, if you're going to do something, then do it with style or don't bother doing it at all.

Even the twins, who were notorious for harassing minibots, were protective and, some might even say, compassionate towards the smaller bot. Jazz himself had not had the greatest of experiences with minibots prior to his first meeting with Bumblebee. They all seemed to be so…sullen and self-absorbed. Cliffjumper and Gears annoyed the frag out of him and Huffer could at times be even more anti-social and pessimistic than Sunstreaker, and that's saying a Pit of a lot.

But Bumblebee was different.

Jazz had been lying down on the hard panel-like bed in his cell that night when he had heard a quiet tapping through the glowing beams of energy of his cell.

Sitting up abruptly and straining to see through the beams, Jazz whispered in surprise, "Bee?"

The yellow minibot had clapped his hands together in applause and played a quiet sound byte of approval.

"What're ya doin' down 'ere?" Jazz had demanded, worried that the little bot would get into trouble.

Bumblebee's optic ridges furrowed in concentration for a moment before another sound byte played, the words indicating that he was worried about Jazz.

"Do Prime or Prowl know ya're here?"

A feigned look of innocence came over Bumblebee's face and he played a little whistling tune. The epitome of little brotherly innocence. What a chip off the ol' block, as humans would say.

"Ya bribed Blue again, didn't ya?" Jazz deadpanned, a proud smirk lying barely concealed beneath his seemingly stern tone.

Baby blue optics gazed back at him mischievously, laughter dancing within them as he tried to contain his excitement at the pride he heard in Jazz's voice.

"I knew I shouldn't've given ya those chips," groaned Jazz.

Last time Jazz had gone on a mission to a heavily populated planet near one of the Decepticon's bases he had bought a huge number of interesting game-like chips at one of the nonaligned markets. More than he could carry actually, and he had needed the assistance of a rather reluctant Mirage, bless his spark. He'd given most of the chips to Bumblebee, Hound, Fireflight, and Bluestreak since they were all so fond of other world's cultures and entertainment systems. The three had been exchanging them off and on for quite some time now and he was sure that Bumblebee had used one of the game chips to persuade the talkative mech to let him into the brig without Prowl's or Prime's permission.

"Prowl'll 'ave my skidplate if he finds out ya snuck down 'ere after ya're shift, Bee," Jazz had grumbled.

Bumblebee looked unfazed as he glanced at the other cells curiously. See, this was why Jazz didn't want the youngling going to that unknown planet alone. Way too curious and naïve. Jazz knew that his nerves would be frazzled the entire time Bumblebee was on his mission. He'd constantly be scared that...

And it was at that moment that Jazz finally realized why he was so upset over the mission that Bumblebee had volunteered too.

Jazz was scared, truly scared.

Despite the hundreds of life-threatening, dangerous missions that he himself had been sent on, Jazz had never truly felt fear. He had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that he would more than likely die on a mission. It had simply become a part of his normal, every orn life. He was a soldier. Death and soldiers lived hand in hand. That was just the way it was, and Jazz had accepted this.

But, for the first time in hundreds of vorns, Jazz was scared for someone other than himself. True, he had felt worry over the well-being of his fellow Autobots, but they were experienced warriors and knew very well how to take care of themselves. Although they were close, they had all learned to detach themselves from death on missions.

But Bumblebee was a different story altogether.

Bumblebee had somehow managed to wriggle his way into his spark, much like he had to Optimus Prime and nearly every other Autobot he knew. Jazz had simply passed the feeling of protectiveness off as a side effect of Bumblebee being a youngling. There were so few of them left that just about everyone felt the need to keep an extra optic on the mischievous little bot.

Jazz had spoken with Sideswipe once before about the feelings that siblings had towards one another, since siblings were now so rare among Cybertronians these past few thousand vorns. Every feeling and emotion that Sides described fit in perfectly with how Jazz felt towards Bumblebee. He hadn't wanted to believe it at the time, but at that moment down in the brig with Bumblebee standing across from him in all of his youthful innocence, Jazz realized that he would never come closer to having a little brother than Bee.

"Ya're such a pain in th'aft," Jazz had groaned, causing the little bot to look at him with confusion, "Ya know that?"

Bumblebee merely tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what Jazz was getting at. He made his confusion known with another sound byte. Primus, Jazz was glad he had taken the time to teach the youngling how to use sound bytes to communicate while he was in the medbay a few orns ago.

"I don't like the thought o' ya goin' after Megatron on ya own, Bee," Jazz had admitted. Bumblebee had frowned at this, his internal systems revving quietly in obvious indignation. "It ain't tha' I don't believe in ya, Bee, it's jus'…"

Bumblebee had tilted his head once again, looking at the older mech whom he admired so much, waiting patiently and hoping for his approval.

"Ya're the closest thing I've ever 'ad to a little brother," Jazz had finished, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders with this revelation and declaration.

The cheerful sounds of Bumblebee's sound bytes echoed throughout the brig and Jazz groaned in exasperation when he heard the loud booming of Prowl's footfalls down the corridor. "Nice goin', Bee," he had scolded, "Ya jus' can't be quiet fo' more than a breem, can ya?"

In spite of this, the happy noises and jovial baby blue optics that gazed back him instantly told him that Bumblebee felt the same brotherly feelings that he himself had hidden for many vorns.

As Prowl rounded the corner and the door swished open, Jazz quietly whispered, for only his and Bumblebee's audios, "I love ya, little brother."

Baby blue optics danced happily with excitement and joy, silently replying, _"I love you too, big brother."_

Bumblebee was sent to Earth three orns later.

The pride that Jazz felt for the little minibot increased ten-fold when he saw the yellow mech standing proudly in that alleyway, his optics shining with a sense of great accomplishment while two small human children, Samuel Witwicky and Mikaela Banes he soon learned, crouched amidst his feet. His big brotherly instincts soon took over and Jazz did a quick once over of the minibot's external and internal conditions. Jazz had barely been able to repress a sigh of frustration when he learned from Ratchet that Bumblebee's voice still had not gotten any better.

_Megatron, ya Pit-slagging second-hand scrap heap of a fraggin' rustin' piece of Pit-spawn rejected microchip, _he had thought furiously whilst giving his little brother a hearty pat on the back.

Primus, he had missed the little bot. Sunny and Sides would never let him live it down if they ever found out he was becoming such a pansy, as the humans would say.

Everything had been going so well for them and his little brother until that fragging Sector 7 had gotten involved. His spark had nearly burst with pride when Bumblebee lubricated on that obnoxious little human. Of course, that euphoria hadn't lasted very long.

The sound of his little brother's pain-filled screams had torn at Jazz's spark. Jazz would not have been surprised if his blue optics had burned blood red when he first heard those muted screams. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to stop himself from jumping down from that bridge and beating the Pit out of those fragging humans. Jazz knew they were not to harm humans because that would have made them no better than those Pit-fragging Decepticons. But, by Primus, the sound of Bumblebee's muted cries for help had nearly made him lose it. If Prime hadn't have stopped him when he did, well, Jazz knew that Bumblebee and the kids would probably be with them right now, not with that slagging Sector 7.

Jazz was usually a pretty cool mech, and very stylish and sleek if he didn't say so himself; but when someone messed with his comrades, especially a certain little yellow one, then they had better watch out because he would track them down and turn them so many ways inside out that not even Ratchet and Wheeljack would be able to put them back together.

Now, it seemed, his worst fears had been realized and his adopted little brother had been stolen from him. He was angry. Perhaps angrier than he had ever been before in his long life. He was angry at Megatron for splitting their world in two and destroying everything that he had ever loved. He was angry at the Decepticons for following that Pit-fragging Megatron and making their lives so much more difficult and heart-breaking than they ever needed to be. He was angry at Prime for not trying to save their little brother and for giving up on him. He was angry at Bumblebee for volunteering to go on such a dangerous mission and for being so fragging heroic. But, most of all, he was angry at himself. He could have done more. He could have taken one of the children himself and then Prime would not have dropped the girl and then Bumblebee would not have been forced into a slagging ambush. He could have distracted the humans and drawn their attention away from the Camaro. He was fast and could have easily out-maneuvered the slower human vehicles. He could have saved his little brother.

But he didn't, and Jazz knew such a mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. Never did he think that losing the little yellow minibot would hurt so much. But it did and Jazz wondered if his spark would survive such a deep and terrifying loss.

His attempts to hide the quiet sputtering of his engine were futile and he simply slowed down even more so than before. Jazz quickly sprayed windshield fluid, trying to silently convince himself that he was simply cleaning a spot of bird crap or crashed bug guts from his clear glass windshield…

Another mighty rev of his engine and Jazz knew he was crying in the only way his kind could and frankly, at this point, he didn't care if the others saw or not. They were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice anything short of a huge explosion anyways.

Every sun-scorched mile was like a silent, brooding torture. His thoughts grew darker the further he drove and the vain hope that he had been clinging too for the past few hours slowly began to dwindle away.

Sam.

Jazz kept trying to remind himself that maybe, just maybe, those two human kids would pull off some sort of miracle and rescue his little brother. That tiny glimmer of hope was the only thing that was stopping Jazz from hitting the brakes and turning around to race back to the Hoover Dam to give those humans a piece of his processor.

Jazz's engine sputtered one more time, his spark twisting painfully with anguish as he furiously thought, _I've had it!_

It was at that moment, just as they were driving between two massive boulders that had been eroded thousands of years ago when the now parched desert had been an ocean, that Jazz decided that he needed to do something. If Prime was not going to help their little comrade, then he would. After all, what kind of big brother would he be if he didn't save his little brother's aft every once in a while.

_Stay tough, Bee_, Jazz thought, _I'm comin' to get ya whether the chief likes it or not!_


	2. Chapter II : Ratchet

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a five-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. I will probably pay the closest attention to Jazz & Optimus Prime since they seem to be the closest to Bumblebee throughout the film. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Sparkling - Newborn

Youngling - Child

Italics - Thoughts

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth days

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Little Brother - Chapter II - Ratchet

* * *

The quiet hum of the yellow Search and Rescue Hummer H2 did little to calm the nerves of the grieving Jazz. Ratchet's medical skills were of no use in a situation such as this. Despite having grown accustomed to death over the thousands of vorns that he had spent serving as a medic, the thought of leaving a fellow Autobot behind always weighed heavily on Ratchet's processor.

Ratchet was a medical officer, and as a medical officer he knew it was not right to choose favorites among his patients. Obviously, the mech that came up with that oath had never met a certain little yellow minibot.

Bumblebee was one of the few Autobots that dared to venture into his medbay for reasons other than injury or mechanical malfunctions. The medic wasn't quite sure how the little yellow bot had managed to charm his way into his good graces, but Bumblebee was one of the few mechs that Ratchet could truly tolerate for more than a breem in his domain. Maybe it was because he had taken care of the young mech since he was a tiny sparkling.

If those obnoxious twins had been here they would have surely said something about his processor being on the fritz.

"Is the Hatchet's circuitry overheated?" Sideswipe would ask.

For Primus's sake, Ratchet cared about his comrades, but unfortunately he just had a very demanding job that required him to be calm and in complete control nearly all the time.

_Why Bumblebee?_ Ratchet thought, _Why?_

Ratchet himself wasn't quite sure what it was about Bumblebee that made nearly everyone around the little bot feel the need to protect him. His cheerful, feisty personality endeared him to the bigger mechs like cyberflies to fresh oil. Ratchet could remember an orn not too long ago when a battered Bumblebee had been carted into his medbay by a frantic Prowl and distraught Bluestreak. It had taken every chip of his medical know-how in order to save the beaten little bot.

Bumblebee's chassis had been almost completely crushed by one of Megatron's massive feet, just narrowly missing the youngling's spark. If Bumblebee had not been brought in at that exact breem, well, Ratchet could almost guarantee that he would not have survived.

That had been one of the longest orns of his life. He had had to completely rebuild the youngling's right arm after Megatron had viciously ripped it from its joint socket and Ratchet did not even want to think about all of the wires he had had to replace throughout Bumblebee's entire frame.

Every mech that was not on duty that orn was either standing or pacing outside of the medbay, impatiently waiting for word on Bumblebee's condition. Even those microchip processed twins could have been found waiting down the hall. Not that Sunstreaker would ever admit to being concerned. Nope, Sunny was only there because his twin brother insisted on checking up on their little buddy.

Thankfully, Prowl had had the sense to send most of them away to the rec room before Ratchet, First Aid, and Wheeljack finally emerged from the 'bay, thoroughly exhausted and frazzled beyond belief. Ratchet would have given his inner cortex for some high-grade that orn. But the important thing was…

Bumblebee would live.

The Battle of Tyger Pax had been a success in more ways than one, after all.

Ratchet still felt guilty that he had not been able to salvage Bumblebee's voice capacitor. He missed the cheerful little mech's amicable and friendly voice. The loss of his voice did little to deter Bumblebee though. He had been communicating through sound bytes for some time now and Ratchet couldn't help but feel a bubbling sense of pride at the youngling's ingenious way of expressing himself.

Of course, he'd practically had to chase Jazz out of his medbay at laser-point after the smooth-talking mech spent nearly a joor filling the halls with noisy sound bytes. What a pain in the aft those two bolt-heads were together.

"Jazz, I swear to Primus Himself that if you don't get your smoking tailpipe out of _my_ medbay in less than a breem, I'll…"

After having spent over an orn working his aft off, Ratchet had been in dire need of a long recharge and many cubes of fresh energon. Because of his injuries, Bumblebee had been safe from Ratchet's terrifying wrath. The same could not be said for Jazz. Not even a half-a-breem later the distinctive sound of a particularly obnoxious sound byte echoed throughout the expansive room once again and Ratchet came within a microchip of going on the fritz.

"Jazz!!!"

The Special Operations agent was not seen in or around the medbay for another three orns.

None of the other mechs were brave enough to confront Jazz about the large dent on his forehead visor, either. Even Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper were intelligent enough to keep their voice capacitors offline.

No one besides Optimus Prime, Prowl, Perceptor, Hoist, Wheeljack, and First Aid dared to enter the medbay for at least another four orns after the Jazz/flying-wrench incident.

Well, except one other pain-in-the-aft skidplate that was…

"Seeing Bee like this only fuels Sunny's hatred for the Big Bad," Sideswipe had stated to Wheeljack and himself one orn not too long after the All-Spark had first been launched off-planet.

The red twin had somehow managed to sneak his way into the 'bay with some fresh energon for the mechs and had then proceeded to spend the rest of the time after that thoroughly annoying the medics whilst entertaining a resting Bumblebee. It truly amazed Ratchet how someone as irresponsible and boisterous as Sideswipe usually was had somehow managed contain himself for more than a joor in order to visit his wounded comrade.

Miracles do happen.

"He'll never admit it," Sideswipe had continued, "but he's raving mad at the ol' tyrant. Been arguin' with Prime for nearly an orn about going after the Cube. Requested the mission alongside Jazz last shift."

Not one of the mechs had taken the time to notice the optics of a certain yellow minibot widen with horror. Nor did they notice how they then narrowed with fierce determination.

"Primus forbid," Ratchet had muttered, eying the red mech suspiciously. Sunny may have been the resident hard-aft of the Autobots, but his twin brother definitely took the title as resident prankster. The red twin had tried numerous times to sneak into the 'bay to cheer Bumblebee up with his tricks and pranks, which were usually done at the expense of Wheeljack and himself. Ratchet had finally gotten sick of Sideswipe's constant infiltration attempts and let him in on strict guidelines that he behave himself. "If he goes on another rampage, Sideswipe…"

Sideswipe merely waved the medic off and replied, "Sunny'll be good until Bee's out of the 'bay. Don't worry, Ratch, Prime already gave him a good talking to."

_Like that's ever done any good,_ Ratchet had thought before turning his head to look at his patient. _Uh oh_, he had thought when he saw those baby blue optics furrowed in deep concentration, _What's he up to?_

Unfortunately, Ratchet soon forgot about that contemplative look as Bumblebee spent most the time after Sideswipe's visit recharging whilst Ratchet himself desperately tried to figure out a way to repair the minibot's voice capacitor. Wheeljack and Hoist had come up with a few possible ideas to solve Bumblebee's voice problems, but Ratchet was reluctant to take the minibot offline again any time soon. Of course, he also didn't feel like having to weld both his lab and resident inventor back together again.

Wheeljack was often his own worst enemy.

Ratchet had lost count of how many times his lab had been blown apart by the eccentric inventor's newest invention or toy. Despite Wheeljack's impressive record of grand creations and helpful gadgets, the Autobots had learned long ago that he was likely to blow up half a ship before successfully finishing a project.

The decision had obviously been quite clear after he had presented the options and their outcomes to Optimus. "Would you prefer to have a Bumblebee without a voice," Ratchet had asked, "Or a Bumblebee in a thousand pieces?"

Jazz had barely been able to suppress a snicker whilst Wheeljack simply stomped off in clear indignation. Unfortunately, this time with Wheeljack he didn't want to take any chances. Wheeljack may have been one of his best friends, but Ratchet did not like to gamble with lives unless he absolutely had to.

And neither did Optimus, obviously.

"I believe you already know the answer to that," Optimus had rumbled, his dark blue optics momentarily gazing at the slumbering youngling. "Do what you think is best for Bumblebee."

"Of course, sir."

Unfortunately for Bumblebee, his slow recovery resulted in him being forced to endure quite a few of Ratchet's lectures.

Ratchet had scolded the youngling numerous times about being more careful on missions. Unfortunately, Bumblebee's youth often interfered with his processor and, for reasons beyond Ratchet's ability to comprehend, he always seemed to feel the need to prove himself to the older, seasoned mechs. Ratchet knew that Bumblebee was designed to be small and fast, but Ratchet also knew very well that one well-placed strike from a larger Decepticon could easily kill the fifteen-foot tall spy.

One of his worst fears was that one orn Bumblebee would be hauled into his medbay and he wouldn't be able to save him. Ratchet had lost many comrades on his med-table and he knew that until this war ended, if it ever did, that there would be many more deaths.

Unlike his fellow Autobots, Bumblebee often volunteered to do menial tasks for the older mech when he desperately needed a few joors to recharge. Ratchet had returned to his medbay after a quick recharge to find it spotless and in perfect working order. His tools were freshly organized and his tables were squeaky clean. It hadn't taken him long to locate the little yellow minibot who was carefully sorting different colored wires into separate bins in a far corner of the room.

It was at that moment that Ratchet realized just how special Bumblebee was and it was at that moment that Ratchet realized that he would do everything in his power to protect the bubbly minibot.

It was at that moment that Ratchet subconsciously adopted Bumblebee as a surrogate son.

Ratchet had been outraged when Prowl told him that Bumblebee had volunteered to follow Megatron and the All-Spark deep into outer space.

"That little circuitry-processed microchip," he had growled, his internal systems revving in utter disbelief, "Not even out of the 'bay one orn before he goes gallivanting off, cannons blazing and all! Once I get a hold of him, I'll…"

And apparently he had not been the only mech incensed over this news because no sooner had Ratchet arrived in Optimus Prime's conference room before an equally livid Jazz had come bursting through the now dented doors. Unfortunately for the both of them, Ratchet had signed off on Bumblebee's recovery documents less than a joor earlier, which meant that the little minibot simply needed Optimus Prime's approval to take that Pit-slagging scouting mission.

Unlike Jazz, however, Ratchet had kept his processor off the fritz and took a much calmer approach towards Bumblebee's new mission. Bumblebee was a soldier, and whether or not Ratchet and his fellow older mechs wanted to admit it or not, he was a slagging good one, especially for his young age. If the yellow minibot desired to take the mission as strongly as Ratchet suspected he did, then by Primus the little bot would have Ratchet's full and total support.

Ratchet had felt a surge of burning pride when he first saw Bumblebee in that dark alleyway after landing on Earth. Despite knowing that Bumblebee was an excellent scout and an even better recon messenger, Ratchet had not been able to shake that nagging fear of something possibly happening to the youngling. That dark, niggling fear had haunted the far recesses of Ratchet's processor since the orn Bumblebee had departed, and had not abated until Ratchet saw the minibot once again with his own optics.

The two small humans standing amidst Bumblebee's large feet had been quite the amusing surprise and discovery as well. Humans were such an odd, yet strangely interesting race.

Unfortunately, Ratchet's introductions had apparently been a little embarrassing for the poor male and female human. Both Samuel and Mikaela, those were their names he soon learned, had blushed profusely when he had stated that, "The pheromone levels in the male indicate he wants to mate with the female."

Ratchet himself had not understood the embarrassing implications his words had had on the two humans until he had done further interpersonal relationship and courting research on the World Wide Web.

_Maybe these humans are not as backwards as we originally assumed,_ he had thought when browsing through a Google search engine. _They seem to be completely obsessed with reproduction though._

He still needed to ask Samuel or Mikaela about their species' obsessive interest in reproduction. Maybe it was some kind of common ritual amongst organic beings? Or perhaps a part of their every orn life?

What odd creatures indeed.

Ratchet was still at a loss when it came to fixing Bumblebee's voice capacitor even after they had rendezvoused on Earth. The only way Ratchet could think of to relieve some of the pain that the youngling felt in his throat gears had been to quickly shoot him with a regenerative plasma laser. Unfortunately, RPL's were not the most painless of methods when it came to relieving pain, either.

Jazz had given him a withering glare, his burning blue optics threatening to snatch the RPL right out of Ratchet's hand and zap him with it. Nevertheless, an equally stern glower from the CMO had silenced the inevitable outburst that was brewing within the overprotective Special Operations agent.

_Bumblebee's a big bot, Jazz,_ he had thought, _He can take care of himself._

And, according to Bumblebee's energy-charged and action-packed sound byte conversation with Jazz as they drove towards the Witwicky household, the Decepticon Barricade had learned that the hard way.

"Decepticon punk's been askin' fo' an aft-whoopin' fo' vorns," Jazz had smugly stated as he gently mock-punched the younger mech when they were traversing through the trees that lined the Witwicky backyard. "Ya did good, Bee."

Of course, that didn't seem to deter Ratchet and the others from still keeping an extra close optic on the youngling. Then again, maybe if Ratchet had not been keeping such a close optic on the youngling then maybe he would not have ran into that electric transformer and those power lines in the Witwicky's backyard. His circuitry still had not stopped tingling and Ratchet was willing to bet a cube of vintage high-grade that there was at least one or two of Judy Witwicky's flowers stuck in his gears.

Now, as he and his fellow Autobots drove down the dusty roads of the scorching hot desert towards the Hoover Dam and the All-Spark, Ratchet felt a deep loss twisting itself within his spark. Leaving Bumblebee behind had been one of the hardest orders Ratchet had ever been forced to follow. Every one of his natural fatherly instincts had been shouting at him to save the youngling, to stop the humans from hurting him at all costs. But, his instincts as a soldier had overruled those warmer feelings and Ratchet now wondered if he would ever be able to forgive himself.

He had let what might very well be the last of the younglings be carted off by a group of eccentric humans. To be experimented on and tortured, as Jazz had so furiously stated when atop that towering building. He had let the closest thing he had ever had to a son be taken away from him right in front of his optics.

Ratchet's engine revved in sorrow, his internal systems shaking with grief. It was his job to care for his fellow Autobots, was it not? It was his job to be the voice of reason when the universe seemed to be closing in on everyone else around him, right? So why couldn't he accept the reasoning behind Optimus Prime's decision to leave Bumblebee to his fate?

_Because he's like your own youngling,_ snapped a firm voice in the back of his processor, _And you love him._

The dusty world around Ratchet seemed to clear right before his optics and a new sense of realization dawned on him. Determination burned through his fuels pumps and a fierce sense of purpose unlike anything else he had ever felt before charged through him from antenna to tailpipe. His optics burned brightly as he put on an extra burst of speed, the silver glint of an equally obstinate Pontiac Solstice blazing not too far behind his right left tire.

_I don't care what Prime says,_ thought Ratchet, his engine revving loudly, _I can't leave him!_


	3. Chapter III : Ironhide

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a five-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. I will probably pay the closest attention to Jazz & Optimus Prime since they seem to be the closest to Bumblebee throughout the film. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and _much_ younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Sparkling - Cybertronian Newborn

Youngling - Cybertronian Child

Italics - Thoughts

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth day

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Little Brother - Chapter III - Ironhide

* * *

The mighty roar of the black GMC Topkick C4500 pickup truck rumbled through the hazy air and scorching heat of the Mojave Desert. Ironhide's massive engine managed to drown out the sounds of his trailing comrades, much to the relief of the giant weapons specialist. He **_really_ **did not feel like communicating with anyone at the moment. He was in a right foul mood and couldn't guarantee his temper would hold if asked anything even remotely close to a stupid question.

Ironhide was old, even by Cybertronian standards.

Few mechs made it past their prime these past few vorns, but it had become evident long ago to both Autobot and Decepticon alike that the only way Ironhide was going down was if the entire war was going down with him. Ironhide did not bow down and surrender to no one, not even Death itself. His spark just kept burning and he just kept blowing Decepticons to itty-bitty little pieces.

That's just the way it was. Period.

After all, like he always said, grinding Decepticons into garbage was his favorite pastime and no amount of fancy, high-tech circuitry could replace good ol' guts.

Unfortunately, Ironhide was one of the last of the original Autobots left. Nearly all of his earliest comrades and brother-in-arms had fallen in battle long, long ago; quite a few of them disappearing from existence during the initial campaigns on Cybertron. The loss of his homeworld had been grueling for Ironhide, hardening and preparing him for the endless wars and countless deaths that would come to shape his life.

But Ironhide loved a good challenge, and he dared fate to throw its slagging worst at him. Breaking the great Ironhide was a difficult trophy to be fought for, and so far no one had won it.

It had been Ironhide's unquestionable loyalty to Optimus Prime and unwavering reliability to his cause that had prompted the Autobot leader to assign the cannon-totting mech what was probably the hardest mission of his long, grueling life.

"You are the only mech I can honestly trust with this mission, Ironhide," Optimus had stated whilst pressing numerous keys on an elevator keypad in one of the last-standing Autobot military bases on Cybertron. "It will be trying, but I trust in your abilities."

"I will do my best, sir," Ironhide had answered simply, running eager fingers over the deadly cannons that lined his arms. Little did he know that his beloved cannons would do him no good against what he was soon to encounter on those lower levels.

* * *

_A few breems later..._

"A sparkling?!?!"

Optimus had seemed unfazed by his second-in-command's heated outburst and had simply replied, "Bumblebee is indeed a sparkling, my friend. He has been online for almost half a vorn."

His commander's nonchalant reply did not help Ironhide's situation at all as the old mech neared a complete system meltdown. Of course, the little yellow minibot that was currently hiding behind one of Optimus's huge legs was of little benefit to Ironhide's sanity either.

"How…whoa…"

Disbelief and amazement had clouded Ironhide's processor, his dark blue optics merely gazing down at the tiny bot that clung to his leader's right leg and stared up at him with wide baby blue optics.

"He was created down here in these old, hidden chambers," Optimus Prime had continued whilst resting a comforting hand atop the little bot's tiny head, "A few hundred vorns after the destruction of the Youth Sectors. And as you already know…"

"There were no survivors," Ironhide had finished, internally shaking himself out of his dazed stupor. "I know, I was one of the first mechs to respond to the distress calls."

"And that is why I have chosen you to be his guardian in my absence."

Much to Ironhide's relief, it was not him that blew a gasket this time but the little minibot. Without further thought or discretion, the sparkling leapt away from Optimus's legs as if burned and proceeded to stare up at the towering Autobot leader with apparent disbelief, startling hurt, and terrorizing fear. It was an upsetting sight to witness, even for the hard-edged Ironhide.

Sparklings were such precious creatures, and they needed to be handled with the utmost care by all older mechs around them.

"Bumblebee…" Optimus had begun, but was unable to finish before he was cut off by the little mech.

"No," the sparkling had whimpered, "No, Bee..." The poor thing had looked completely lost and utterly alone, baby blue optics wide with terror. "Bee don't wanna new guardian! Bee want Opt!"

Ironhide had sincerely hoped at the time that Optimus knew how to handle a hostile and slagging upset sparkling, because Ironhide himself had not had a fragging clue. The little microchip had looked like he was about to explode on the spot and with no Ratchet or Hoist here to help them…

"Times have become difficult, Bumblebee," Optimus had softly stated as he tried to soothe the quivering sparkling, "And I merely wish to be extra cautious when it comes to your safety and well-being. Ironhide is my second-in-command and trusted friend, and he will look after you whenever I cannot. I will try my best to be…"

Optimus had been cut off mid-sentence by a loud explosion a few levels up in the military base. Ironhide had instantly whipped his cannons out, startling the sparkling to the point where he quickly dashed back to Optimus and clung to one of his mighty legs yet again.

"Sounds like they've breeched the lower levels," Ironhide had stated, pointing his right plasma cannon towards the elevator doors. "Decepticons must have found a way in through the western hangars."

"Take Bumblebee and meet up with Inferno's unit outside of the eastern docking bay. The halls and corridors on the lowest base levels should still be under our control," Optimus had ordered, gently nudging the protesting sparkling towards Ironhide. "I'll head towards the western labs and meet up with Prowl's and Ratchet's units. We'll then meet up near the upper eastern hangars and launch off-planet within the orn. Iacon is no longer safe."

"No! No!" cried the sparkling, desperately clutching onto Optimus's upper right leg and burrowing his head into his shin plate, "No go away! No! Don't! Bee'll be good, Bee promise!"

Soothing the sparkling had seemed to be a very difficult task, and Ironhide was positive that there was no way on Cybertron that he could force his voice capacitor down to the lulling decibels that Optimus used when in the presence of the sparkling. He had also once heard that sparklings needed to be touched as a form of comfort and reassurance.

_**A lot.**_

And yet again, Ironhide knew there was no way that he, the rough-and-tumble-gun-totting-and-planet-blowing-trigger-happy mech that he was, could be even _half_ as gentle and tender as Optimus was being towards the fragile sparkling.

Oh, Primus help him.

"Are there no others down here?" Ironhide had asked, surprised that the sparkling had been left alone for even a short period of time. Femme bots were known for being notoriously protective of sparklings and younglings, and that was why there were so few femmes left. A huge majority of the femme population had been killed when protecting the defenseless younglings during the height of the war.

Ironhide knew for a fact that Chromia would have sacrificed her life at any time if it meant that she were to save a youngling's life. She had told him that exact fact enough times to make his processor buzz. Chromia had also said that he would never understand the feeling of need to protect a youngling until he encountered one for himself.

He hadn't believed her. But, after looking at the little scrap-pile of yellow and black paint, he did. Primus, did he ever believe her now.

At that time, Bumblebee had been no older by Cybertronian standards than a two-week old human infant, if his research of human age on the World Wide Web had been correct.

"His femme caretakers left less than a breem before we arrived to assist Ratchet's unit at my request," Optimus had explained. "Bumblebee's _far_ too young to be left alone for any length of time."

Ironhide had then looked down at the cowering sparkling. He himself had never encountered a mech as young as this one, nor did he have any idea how to properly care for him. His specialty was in weapons and blowing Decepticons to Pit-slagging bits, _**not**_ babysitting a defenseless and vulnerable sparkling.

"What do I gotta do?"

And that had been the start of Ironhide's very long, very complicated, and at times very processor-frazzling relationship with the little energy-bubbling minibot menace that was known as Bumblebee.

Ironhide had fiercely protected and cared for Bumblebee in Optimus's absence for countless vorns. The youngling had quickly become emotionally attached to the gruff, old mech after a few short orns and almost never wandered out of his optic sight even when they were in Autobot territory.

None of the other mechs commented on the fact that the usually grumpy and curt Ironhide seemed to mellow out whenever the youngling was within the vicinity, which was nearly all the time. He was still as bad-tempered and petulant towards everyone else as usual, but Bumblebee was a rare exception. And besides, the other mechs had been too astonished by the fact that a youngling was still alive and healthy to make any wise-aft remarks, at least when in Ironhide's presence.

Every breem that wasn't spent dedicating himself to the Autobot cause was spent raising and training the ever eager and energetic Bumblebee. The youngling ran him until his vents and cooling systems felt like they were going to shut down and all he desired was for some fresh energon and a nice, long recharge. Optimus had warned him during frequent inter-planetary data line checkups that Bumblebee would only become even more hyper and active as he grew older. Especially since he was in such an energy-rich and mentally and physically stimulating environment.

_Oh Primus,_ Ironhide had thought, _I'm getting too old for this._

Ironhide had been on cloud nine when some of the younger Autobots had finally volunteered to watch the little yellow-ball-of-bouncing-energy for a few joors. Ironhide had gruffly told them of the youngling's basic needs and properly explained to them that if the little mech returned with even so much as a tiny scratch on his paintjob then they would become very familiar with the inner workings of his plasma cannons. Not one of them dared to disagree or argue.

Nevertheless, Bumblebee had returned in one piece and with many riveting stories to tell to his guardian, who desperately tried to process half of the quickly spoken words that came out of the youngling's voice capacitor.

"Grapple let me help him with one of his projects and Bluestreak showed me all of these videos of him and the others beating the slag out of some Decepticons…"

"Watch your language," Ironhide had gruffly scolded whilst replacing a few old bolts and burned wires on his left cannon, not at all pleased with the youngling's choice of words.

"Sorry."

The youngling hadn't even had the decency to look sheepish! Oh Primus, what was he going to do with him?

"And then the twins and Jazz took me down to the firing range and let me try out the new…"

**_"They what?!"_** Ironhide had roared, swiveling around on his chair to stand up and glare down at the mortified youngling.

"Whoops…"

To say the least, the medbay was extra busy and filled with Sunshine for Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Hoist that orn. At least a dozen mechs had complained about their auditory receptors going offline after Ironhide had given the trio a good, old-fashioned talking too. Jazz and the twins had never gone against Ironhide's youngling-orders ever again and all was well in the Autobot world of youngling-sitting.

And like every guardian, Ironhide had had to accept that he couldn't protect his young charge from everything mean and nasty that existed in the universe. But he sure as Pit tried. He had blown apart more Decepticons than he could count for getting too close to Bumblebee for his liking. Of course, he'd had to let go of quite a few barriers as his little youngling grew older, but that didn't mean that he wasn't always watching just in case something got by the minibot's slowly developing defenses.

The Battle of Tyger Pax had been one of the most physically taxing and most emotionally grueling conflicts that Ironhide had ever taken part in. Bumblebee had been almost fully trained in the art of war by that point in time and had been given a very important mission by Optimus Prime himself.

Bumblebee had been almost bubbling over with excitement and the need to prove himself to the older mechs. Ironhide hadn't had one microchip of doubt that Bumblebee would show his fellow Autobots what he was made of.

Tough stuff, of course.

The mission to launch the All-Spark off-planet turned out to be a success, thanks to his little youngling. Unfortunately, to Ironhide's horror Bumblebee had been tortured mercilessly by that Pit-slagging scrap-piece gut-waxed microchip-processed Megatron for information about the All-Spark. And he had not spoken one word. Not one word. And it had saved the lives of countless mechs and given the Autobots a good chance of possibly winning the war.

Everything had seemed fantastic until Ironhide had seen his little youngling being carried by an energon-covered Prowl and a distraught Bluestreak towards the ship's medbay. Until Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Hoist had started yelling at the highest decibel of their voice capacitors at everyone to get out of the 'bay and for First Aid to get every medical supply that could possibly come in handy. Primus, everything had been great until he had seen Bumblebee's blue internal fluids coating and coagulating on those Pit-slagging immaculate silver floors.

His whole world had seemed to collapse right before his very optics and thoughts of losing his little youngling had overwhelmed his processor.

That had been the longest orn of his life.

He had been one of the first mechs to see Bumblebee after Ratchet and Hoist had finally managed to stabilize him. He had also been the first to learn that there was no way possible to save the minibot's voice capacitor.

Ironhide's hatred for Decepticons had soared to a never-before-achieved level, and he knew he wasn't the only mech that had felt that way. He could see the same anger and hatred burning within the optics of every other Autobot, especially Optimus and Jazz. Even the twins had seemed to have gone on the fritz after seeing Bumblebee's appalling condition.

And then that pain-in-the-aft little bot had actually had the bolts to sneak out of their shared room shortly after he was released countless orns later and volunteer for that Primus-forsaken scouting mission. Ironhide truly did not know how much more his old spark could take of that youngling's Pit-fragging daredevilish heroics. He had just stormed out of their room in time to witness an infuriated and out-of-control Jazz being forcibly hauled down to the brig by an irate Prowl and an equally stressed out Warpath.

After a thorough search of the ship, he'd eventually managed to corner both Bumblebee and Optimus at different times throughout the orn and had told them exactly what he thought about Bumblebee being sent on such a mission. It had taken _a lot _of assurances on Optimus's part and _a lot_ of sound byte pleading on Bumblebee's part to convince Ironhide to back down.

Primus, those baby blue optics were lethal weapons.

Ironhide's nerves and hydraulics had been stressed out since the astrosecond his youngling had departed from Autobot territory and out of his optic sensor sight. Most of his fellow mechs knew better than to irritate him when he was in such a volatile mood and avoided the firing range whenever he was within the vicinity. He'd found somewhat of a kindred spirit in the equally frustrated Jazz, whom he knew viewed the minibot as a little brother.

"He'll be fine," Jazz had reassured whilst firing his arm cannons at a practice drone, "Bee's a tough lil' bot."

Ironhide's spark had nearly burst with relief and pride when he saw a physically intact and undamaged Bumblebee standing in that dark alleyway after they landed on Earth. The two little human children that crouched amidst his feet had been an interesting sight, but Ironhide had not been surprised at all that the bubbly youngling had befriended them.

He knew Bumblebee was going to laugh his aching capacitor off and play one of those annoying little sound bytes when he told him about where he had landed and then about that annoying human child.

"Are you the tooth fairy?" it had asked.

_What on Cybertron is a_ tooth fairy? Ironhide had thought. _And what is wrong with showing my cannons?_

Optimus could be so picky sometimes.

_And I was only trying to be helpful. Rodent infestations are such a nuisance. _Another hideous thought suddenly dawned on him, _I've probably got flowers in my gears! Oh Primus, how can You be so cruel?_

He could understand the hostility and concern the boy's parents had felt when they had believed that their youngling was in danger. Primus, Ironhide had blown quite a few things apart on numerous occasions when Bumblebee had pulled a disappearing act and given him a fright. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

He had a reputation to maintain after all.

_Who am I trying to fool,_ thought Ironhide,_ I'm nothing but old bolts and spare parts without that little bot!_

Ironhide loved that little youngling more than life itself and even as Bumblebee grew older, that love had never wavered. Not once. If possible, it had only seemed to grow stronger and more potent as the minibot matured and grew into a noble young mech that fought for his people, family, and friends. Bumblebee was like the youngling Chromia and himself had never had the chance to have because of the Decepticons and the war.

_Chromia would have loved him,_ Ironhide thought sorrowfully, _Simply loved him._

Although he did not know of his love's current status, Ironhide had tried to remain optimistic over the vorns. He had always hoped that one orn he would see her again and introduce her to Bumblebee. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that his sparkmate would adore and coddle the youngling to no end. There would be no stopping her once she started spoiling the little bot. Not even Optimus would stand a chance against her maternal instincts.

And Primus help Jazz and those obnoxious scrap-fragging twins.

But now, with the recent loss of Bumblebee…

Ironhide felt like rolling over and dying at this very moment as he drove through the scorching Mojave Desert.

The sight of Bumblebee writhing in pain had torn his spark in two and made his blue optics glow red with seething rage. Every single muted cry of pain that had left the small bot's damaged voice capacitor had made Ironhide's cannons pulse with a vigor that he had not felt in thousands of vorns. Those filthy, disgusting _**humans**_ had _**dared**_ to hurt _**his**_ precious youngling and he wanted to _**blow**_ them _**apart**_. A red-hazed fury had overtaken his processor and internal systems. They would feel his Pit-spawned wrath and he would make them wish they had never laid one repulsive cell on _**his**_ youngling.

If Optimus had not stopped him and the others when he had, well, a large chunk of that town would be nothing more than dust under the reddened moonlight right now. And Sector 7 would have lost a good portion of its personnel as well.

He wanted revenge, and be it Decepticon or human alike, Ironhide wanted it now.

But first, he needed to get his youngling back.

_Pit hath no fury like a father scorned!_ Ironhide thought furiously, his engines giving a might roar. _Touching my youngling was the worst mistake you could have ever made, Megatron!_

* * *

I sincerely hope I haven't butchered Ironhide's tough-guy personality here. But I simply viewed him as more of a father-figure to Bumblebee than anything, and most of the stuff he thinks here he would probably never admit to when around his fellow soldiers. Please let me know what you think in a review, or if I should revise, because I'm really not sure with Ironhide.


	4. Chapter IV : Optimus Prime I

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a five-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. I will probably pay the closest attention to Jazz & Optimus Prime since they seem to be the closest to Bumblebee throughout the film. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Whoops, thank you Chibi Yoshi, for pointing out about the paintjob problem. I've gotten into the habit of referring to him as yellow, so that might be one little thing I'll pretend to be too lazy to fix. And yes, I _love_ writing about a baby-Bee. Don't be surprised if you see quite a few more stories, probably one-shots, from me throughout the following months surrounding Bumblebee as a youngling and how he was raised and trained. Let me know if any of you guys have any ideas that you might like for me to try and write in the future. Just put it in a review.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Little Brother - Chapter IV - Optimus Prime I

* * *

The pulsing thrum of the metallic blue Peterbilt's engine pierced through the hazy, scorching heat of the parched desert and the blazing red flames that trailed down its cab accented the mighty vehicle's intimidating aura. The deafening roar of Optimus Prime's engine bellowed down the dusty roads of the Mojave Desert, effectively masking the deep pain that twisted and tore at his aching spark.

Optimus Prime was the leader of the Autobots and holder of the Creation Matrix.

Few beings in the universe held such devastating power within their grasps and at times Optimus Prime wondered if he was honestly capable of upholding such a physically demanding, mentally taxing, and emotionally draining position. His entire life centered around making the universe a peaceful place for all sentient beings and restoring his homeworld of Cybertron. Unfortunately, such an illustrious purpose simply could not be achieved without the deaths of many on both sides of the war.

The Autobot leader had learned long ago that Megatron and his Decepticons cared little about the lives and worlds that they ruined as their Cybertronian War tore ruthlessly across the universe. Hundreds upon hundreds of innocent peoples and primitive worlds had met a cruel end at the hands of the Decepticons.

For generations, Optimus Prime had ruled Cybertron side-by-side with his brother, Lord Protector Megatron. Optimus Prime had been fair and just, Lord Megatron firm and steadfast. Albeit not the closest of siblings, they had loved one another and trusted in one another when times grew difficult. They had created an effective balance that allowed the people of Cybertron to live in peace and harmony.

But, like all matters of politics and leadership, even the greatest of alliances can be broken and shattered with one solitary act of deceit.

Lord Protector Megatron, Optimus Prime's brother, had become greedy with power and attempted to steal the All-Spark, the source of all life and power on Cybertron, for his own selfish gain. This was an act of such contemptuous betrayal and despicable deception that even Optimus Prime himself could not forgive his brother.

The next Cybertronian War had erupted within less than an orn.

The difference between the two brothers became clear as time passed and the war escalated to unimaginable heights of carnage. Megatron and his Decepticons killed their enemies without remorse, targeting any mech or femme even remotely connected to the Autobot cause. Nevertheless, not even Optimus Prime had thought his brother so cruel as to target the defenseless without a second thought.

But he had been wrong, and Optimus regretted his incorrect assumption and lethal inaction every astrosecond of his long life.

The Youth Sectors had been under Autobot control since the beginning of the war and were moderately guarded against stray rocket fire by a few units of mechs and many femmes from all sides of the war. Allegiance mattered little when it came to the raising of younglings, but most of the mechs and femmes present in the Sector were either Autobot or neutral. The protection and rearing of the younglings was top priority and most mechs did not dare interfere with the overprotective femmes and their young charges unless they absolutely had too.

Hundreds of sparklings and younglings had been separated from their families and placed into secure demilitarized zones known as the Youth Sectors shortly after the war had began to seriously ravage even the furthest corners of Cybertron. Surprisingly, even the hardest of Decepticons had agreed to the demand that the Youth Sectors were to be kept violence free and remain as detached from the war as possible.

The peaceful atmosphere of the Youth Sector had remained intact for hundreds of vorns until one notorious orn when a series of distress calls came from one of the Youth Sectors.

"We are under attack!" had yelled the desperate voice of a femme caretaker, "I repeat, we are under attack! Send all available Autobot units to Youth Sector Alpha II! Please, hurry!"

Within less than two breems every single Youth Sector on Cybertron had sent out a barrage of distress calls, overwhelming both the Autobots and the Neutralist peacekeeping forces. And because of their current military placements and missions, not one Autobot or even Neutralist force was able to arrive in time to save the younglings, and nearly all of the femmes had gone done trying to protect them.

The few sparklings and younglings that had survived the slaughter, less than a few dozen or so Optimus had estimated, had been taken by the Decepticons and were not seen for hundreds of vorns. The last time Optimus Prime had seen a transformer young enough amongst the Decepticon ranks to have been from the Youth Sectors had been about forty-five vorns ago.

Optimus had always doubted that many of the younglings had survived long in Decepticon custody and as the vorns passed, few very young mechs or femmes that fit the youngling age bracket were ever seen.

And the sorrow that Optimus felt over not assigning proper protection to the Youth Sectors only seemed to increase every time he looked over their smoldering ruins.

Megatron had become frustrated by the amount of younglings converting to the Autobot and Neutralist causes shortly after they were released from the Youth Sectors and had viewed the Sectors as a threat to his winning of the war. Chaos and mayhem had then erupted all across Cybertron and the Decepticons and Autobots were launched into a new, brutal phase of the war unlike any other their kind had ever witnessed before in history.

Optimus Prime had truly feared that the war would lead to the extinction of their kind and the complete destruction of Cybertron.

His next decision would prove to be one of the most dangerous and difficult he would ever make as the Autobot leader.

It was about two hundred vorns after the mass slaughter of the younglings when Optimus Prime made a startling discovery surrounding the Matrix. He had known for a long time that the Matrix could give life, but had never known if he himself was capable, or even permitted, to wield such an enigmatic power. Everything regarding the Matrix was mysterious and uncertain, even for the Autobot leader whom it resided within, and Optimus had for a long time refused to use its puzzling powers unless it was absolutely necessary.

And that was why Optimus had been so uncertain of his decision to attempt to make another spark from his own with the Matrix's power.

The procedure itself had been long and energy-draining as Optimus Prime tried to tediously create another spark without the assistance that was usually required of a femme in such a situation. He had chosen a small faction of his most trusted Autobots to oversee the whole procedure and prepare a bodily frame for the tiny spark. Optimus had known that supplies were limited and had requested that the first-frame be no larger than his hand. In the end, and due to the spark's small size and spatial energy, the sparkling's fourth and final frame would be no larger than that of the average minibot, no higher than his hip and lower chassis.

The femmes had been the most excited, thrilled by the proposition that they may actually have the chance to care for a little sparkling whilst the mechs made sure that he did not overly exhaust himself. As far as his fellow Autobots were concerned, their leader had simply gone to oversee the transport of some new, important weapons to one of their military bases off-planet and would return to the front within a few orns.

After the spark had been successfully created, Optimus had immediately gone into recharge and had not come online for another two orns. By that point in time, the body for the sparkling had been completed and all that was needed was to insert the spark. He had been relieved to learn that everything the sparkling would need had already been attended to and the lowest levels of the Autobot's strongest base in Iacon had been prepared by the femmes to house the little creature.

His most trusted medical scientist at the time had been the one to insert the spark into the small body and make sure everything was running smoothly before the sparkling came online. Optimus could remember watching the bright blue spark pulse with life as tiny tendrils of light coursed through its shuddering frame before radiant baby blue optics came to life and gazed up at him with a mixture of curiosity, puzzlement, affection, and warmth.

"Hello, little one."

His little brother had been born.

The intense love that Optimus had felt for the tiny sparkling had been immediate, embedding itself deep into every molecule of his spark the instant those baby blue optics had met his own dark blue gaze. Never before had he seen a more precious creature and Optimus knew that he would never love any being more than he did the little one lying before him.

"Bumblebee," Optimus had whispered, keeping his decibels as low and soothing as possible whilst running tender fingers over the sparkling's tiny head, "His name will be Bumblebee."

The little sparkling had responded immediately to his affectionate touch, turning his head into Optimus's colossal palm and releasing a few quiet clicking sounds from his voice capacitor. The femmes to Optimus's left side had nearly melted with adoration, gazing at the sparkling with reverence and devotion. His fellow mechs had simply stared in wonder, shocked by the sight of a living sparkling _and_ their charismatic commander's tender actions towards the newly born creature.

"Primus," one of the mechs had murmured, stepping forward to get a closer look at the sparkling, "It actually worked."

The soft clicking of the tiny sparkling had reached deep into Optimus's spark and caused a fierceness to race through his internal systems that he had not felt since he had first discovered Megatron's betrayal. He had created this helpless little being and he was going to protect him with his own life for as long as possible. His little brother's creation had proved that there was still hope for the Autobots and Cybertron after all.

"Don't worry, little one," Optimus had whispered whilst gazing at the now slumbering sparkling, "I'll protect you." He had then looked at the femmes and mechs at his sides before turning his optics back to the sparkling and softly murmuring, "Younglings bring hope, and hope is something that we all need more than ever in these dark times."

Hope.

Unfortunately, hope was long coming on Cybertron and Optimus had often wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing Bumblebee into such a hostile world. Optimus himself had sacrificed so much for the good of his followers, and his time spent with the little sparkling had been a welcome indulgence of the kind that he had deprived himself of for many vorns. Albeit he had seen countless younglings during his brief visits to the Youth Sectors all those vorns ago, Optimus had instantly come to the conclusion that none of them had held an energon-light to his bubbly little brother.

Despite being thousands of vorns old, every single thing Bumblebee did, be it simply gazing up at the titanic mech with those imploring baby blue optics or excitedly showing him a new data chip, had seemed to amaze the usually immensely knowledgeable Optimus Prime.

Bumblebee's chambers had been located on the lowest levels of one of Iacon's strongest Autobot bases, so Optimus had been able to frequently visit with the little bot without distancing himself from his troops. However, he had quickly realized that giving Bumblebee the attention he needed was going to be difficult considering Optimus had to dedicate nearly every breem of his time to battling Megatron and his Decepticons.

"What is wrong, little one?" Optimus had asked one orn as he carried him down one of the corridors.

The little minibot had been unusually quiet and the femmes had informed Optimus of his odd behavior shortly after he had arrived in the lower levels. Bumblebee had been almost a half-vorn old at this point in time, and Optimus had not seen him in quite a while because of increased attacks on Iacon.

The Decepticons had been gaining power all over much of Cybertron and Optimus had feared that the Autobots would soon be forced to take the war off-planet.

"Coming," the youngling had quietly squeaked in his infantile voice, looking down one of the darker hallways and clutching onto Optimus's colossal hand more tightly, "Don't let come."

"Who's coming, Bumblebee?" Optimus had asked, startled by the fearful energy that the little youngling was projecting in copious amounts.

"Bad ones," Bumblebee had whispered, his optics scared and his hand gripping onto Optimus's even more tightly, if that had even been possible. "Take away."

Optimus had not understood what Bumblebee had been so terrified of at the time and had requested for the femmes to scan his processor for glitches.

Nothing had showed up.

Younglings had difficulty when it came to controlling both the emotional and electrical energy they projected, and then in turn received from older mechs. Similar to human children on Earth, Cybertronian younglings were easily upset and had to be treated with great care until their processor and internal systems had been given the correct amount of data. Only so such much could be hardwired into their processors without overwhelming their spark and most of a youngling's memory banks had to develop on its own.

It was a long and tedious process that took many vorns to accomplish. Optimus had never been too involved in the raising of younglings until Bumblebee's creation and had had to learn quickly how to act when in the minibot's presence. The femmes did not seem to have a problem adjusting to being around a youngling, and Optimus had simply assumed that maternal instincts were hardwired into all femme processors.

Primus, there had been so much to learn in so little time.

The Autobot military base had come under heavy attack less than twenty orns later and Optimus had been forced to make a sudden, but necessary decision regarding his little brother's safety. Optimus knew that he himself would have to lead his fellow Autobots in the fight against the invading Decepticons, but he was _**not**_ willing to risk Bumblebee's life and well-being in any way whatsoever.

And that's where his old friend and trusted second-in-command, Ironhide, had come in.

Despite his gruff, hard-edged, cynical, trigger-happy exterior, Optimus had known that if there was a mech that he could trust with the youngling's safety, it was Ironhide. Loyalty and blowing Decepticons apart had always been at the top of Ironhide's list of priorities, and never had Optimus seen a microchip that would have led him to believe otherwise. If Optimus Prime had ordered Ironhide to protect the youngling, then by Primus, Ironhide would protect the youngling.

Of course, blowing Decepticons to itty-bitty microchips in the process was always a plus in Ironhide's catalogs.

In spite of this, Optimus and Ironhide had both learned that orn that keeping track of a small youngling when in a war zone was much more difficult than they had originally presumed. Optimus had been horrified when he had rendezvoused with Inferno's unit in the upper eastern hangars and had seen no Bumblebee amongst the frantically squabbling collection of Autobots.

"Where is he?!" Optimus had demanded, quickly scanning the expansive hangar for any sign of the minibot.

He and his units had managed to obliterate every Decepticon they had encountered and had secured most of the levels of the base after reinforcements had arrived, but a number of the lower levels and outer sectors still had not been scoured and secured by his troops.

"The youngling was separated somewhere between the lower rec rooms and the lower eastern medical labs," Inferno had informed immediately, "Ironhide, Landmine, and Jazz fell back to search for him."

Optimus had instantly remembered the orn not that long before when he had had to reassure the youngling that no one was going to take him away. If the Decepticons were to ever find out exactly what Bumblebee was to the great Autobot leader...

Optimus had not even wanted to think about what could have happened to the little bot. Hiding Bumblebee's relation to him had had to become top priority shortly afterwards and Optimus had come to the conclusion that only his most trusted friends would be allowed to know of his little brother's true status.

The Autobots had then been led to believe that Optimus viewed Bumblebee as his little brother, but they had not known that Bumblebee _**was**_ his little brother. Albeit, if that was the correct term for their relation had always been up for debate since Bumblebee had had a rather unconventional creation.

Nevertheless, Optimus simply prefered to regard Bumblebee as his little brother.

Period.

_Primus, let Ironhide find him safe and sound,_ Optimus had thought, his processor and spark buzzing with a deep, twisting terror unlike any he had ever felt before in his long life.

* * *

_About twenty breems later…_

"Optimus!"

The optic sensors of every mech in the hangar had immediately turned to focus on the tiny minibot that had crawled across the short distance from Jazz to Optimus like a rocket and lhad atched onto one of their commander's towering legs. Ironhide and Landmine had came walking through the swishing doors not even a moment later, looking quite weary but also smugly content as they always did after blowing a few Decepticons apart.

"Where was he?" Optimus had asked, instantly signaling for Ratchet to come over and run a complete internal and external scan of the sparkling. "Is he alright?"

Optimus and a number of his fellow Autobots had been preparing to launch another search within the next breem if Ironhide and the others had not returned soon. After they had made sure that the base had been completely secured, they had then finally been able to turn their attention to the missing sparkling.

Of course, the fact that a sparkling was actually alive and dwelling in the base had been quite the surprise to most of his troops, but it was a pleasant one nonetheless. The military base's new CMO, his old friend Ratchet, had seemed especially intrigued by this new piece of information. The glare that the medic had given Optimus had told him that Ratchet had not been too happy about not being informed of the sparkling's existence.

_My auditory receptors are never going to be the same again,_ Optimus had thought with a wary glance in the medic's direction. _Primus help me._

"He was hidin' down in the lower eastern medbay," Ironhide had curtly informed whilst running his fingers over his noisily crackling left plasma cannon, "Ran into some 'Cons down there too. Must've seen the lil' bot an' purposely tried to separate him from the rest of the group. Don't know if they ever figured out what he was or not." He ran another hand over his cannon smugly, "Not like they'll be tellin' anyone 'bout nothin' anyways."

"Bee hid!" Bumblebee had proudly proclaimed, drawing everyone's attention back to the little sparkling, "Bee missing. Bee hid!"

"Ya did good, Bee," Jazz had complimented, giving the little bot a gentle pat on the head, "Those Decepticon punks were too busy lookin' fo' ya to notice us comin'."

Bumblebee had then made a small clicking sound of wonder before softly stating, "'Hide made bad bots go away," and proceeded to jabber on about his experience in the medbay and all the neat doo-hickeys he got to see. All whilst staying firmly attached to Optimus' right leg, of course.

Optimus had later learned from Ironhide and Jazz that Bumblebee's chosen hiding place had in fact been one of Ratchet's forbidden 'medical storage' cabinets. If forced to choose between the continued existence of a thousand-vorn old container of vintage high-grade or a giggling and happily jabbering Bumblebee…

Optimus would have chosen Bumblebee, of course.

The war between the Autobots and Decepticons had only seemed to grow more violent and desperate as Bumblebee grew older, Optimus's precious time with the bubbly youngling growing even more limited. Ironhide had done an incredible job of caring for the youngling in Optimus's absence, seeing to his well-being and training without fault and making sure that the mischievous little menace didn't make the older mechs go on the fritz. Most of the time at least…

"He's got a glitch, Optimus, I swear he does!" Ironhide had ranted one orn. "He refuses to listen to reason!"

"He's a youngling," Optimus had sighed, laying a comforting hand on his old friend's massive shoulder, "It's only normal for him to emulate the older mechs around him."

"No, Optimus, normal is for Bumblebee to wanna go down to the slaggin' firin' range with Jazz or myself to blow things up. Normal's for Bumblebee to wanna tackle practice drones twice his size with those Pit-fraggin' twins," Ironhide had raved, stabbing one of his thick fingers in the air and almost hitting Warpath in the process. "Normal's _not_, and I repeat, _not_ wantin' to masquerade around as some…some weak, organic fleshling who waltzes around with a slaggin' _purple_ paintjob."

"I believe the Kemessions call that paintjob: clothing, my friend," Optimus had chuckled, "And Bumblebee could idolize worse people than fictional Kemession comic-chip heroes. Besides, I believe that purple is considered a color of bravery in the Kemession culture."

"And the color of the Decepticons in ours," Ironhide had growled.

"Younglings," Optimus had simply stated, that single word seeming to convey every spark of emotion they had ever felt towards Bumblebee. Of course, underlying his obvious exasperation at Bumblebee's antics had been an intense love that would forever burn on unrivalled in the sparks of both titanic mechs.

Ironhide had let out a loud snort at that and had said gruffly, "I'm _never_ lettin' that lil' microchip go off-ship wit' Jazz an' Hound ever again." They had stepped into the rec room at this point, Optimus scanning the expansive chamber with his dark blue optics for a certain mischievous minibot. "Thought my auditory receptors 'ad gone on the fritz, never heard such a slaggin'…"

The entire rec room had fallen silent when the towering Autobot commander and his weapons specialist had entered, at least a half dozen mechs rushing for the nearest exit.

"What's wrong with them?" Optimus had asked, his internal systems revving in confusion and curiosity.

"Primus…"

At the sound of his old friend's gasp, Optimus had turned his gaze towards the far left side of the room where a certain little minibot, who was at that point in time the Cybertronian equivalent of a human six-year-old, was standing in between a fuming Ratchet and a snickering Jazz. Empty cubes had littered the ground and large splatters of a dark liquid had coated the silver floor.

"What do ya think?" had asked a very cheerful and a _very **purple**_ Bumblebee whilst striking a dashing pose for the two gaping mechs. "Neat, eh?"

Optimus had simply pinched the bridge of his nose in complete and utter disbelief. _Primus, what am I going to do with him?_

Nevertheless, Optimus had never loved that bubbly little youngling more than he had at that moment when seeing him messily covered in purple paint and smiling as if not a single thing was wrong in the entire universe.

* * *

This is a two-part chapter-thing for Optimus Prime regarding his feelings towards Bumblebee, by the way. Didn't want to confuse you, so this'll be a six-part series apparently.

Okay, I am truly unsure about this chapter. This was definitely the hardest of all the chapters to write and I'm really not sure if I got this right. I wanted to try to keep Optimus Prime as in-character as possible, and Bumblebee as realistic for his age as possible, but I'm truly not sure if I got it right or if I should revise it or not.

Please let me know what you think in a review, because I'm really not sure about this chapter and I'd like to know if I should revise this chapter and change some things in the next chapter. Thank you.


	5. Chapter V : Optimus Prime II

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a six-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. I will probably pay the closest attention to Jazz & Optimus Prime since they seem to be the closest to Bumblebee throughout the film. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Sparkling - Newborn

Youngling - Child

Italics - Thoughts

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth day

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Little Brother - Chapter V - Optimus Prime II

* * *

The charismatic and mesmerizing aura of Optimus Prime had often intimidated those around him, striking fear into those who opposed him while at the same time inspiring those who followed him with admiration and respect. Upon the battlefield, Optimus Prime had forever been unrivalled in destructive force and raw power amongst the Autobots. 

Optimus Prime was unstoppable and indestructable.

Albeit empathetic and compassionate towards all sentient beings, the mere sight of the great Optimus Prime had always stroke fear into the blackened sparks of all Decepticons who stood against him on the reddened battlefield.

No creature could endure his piercing dark blue gaze…

Well, except one, that is…

"I'm bored out of my processor," Bumblebee had complained one orn, struggling to gaze up at Optimus from across his huge desk.

Optimus had looked up from the weapons statistic documents he had been reading through, completely surprised to find the tiny yellow minibot standing at the opposite side of his desk, baby blue optics barely visible over the edge. The youngling had always been a sneaky little bot, the older mechs having discovered when Bumblebee was less than one vorn old that he could and would sneak into any room on the Autobot leader's battleships if he wanted too.

Ironhide had never been able keep the little bot locked in their room either. The youngling had _always_ managed to break the code on the keypad and had _always _managed_ to _get into trouble at some point thereafter. It was an endless cycle of robo-cat and glitch-mouse between the older mechs and the youngling.

Of course, it had been hard to tell _who_ was chasing _who_ sometimes.

And the youngling had always seemed to thoroughly enjoy being chased around by the older mechs, wreaking havoc whenever the opportunity had presented itself.

Optimus' office had always been one of Bumblebee's favorite getaways, the little bot often spending joors with the Autobot leader until Ironhide finally came along to put him into recharge, which was always a battle of wills that the entire ship was aware of after only a few short moments. He had returned to his office numerous times to find Bumblebee sitting in his massive chair, curled up with a game-chip from Hound and shining with such innocence that it took Optimus' breath away.

Unfortunately though, the age gap between Bumblebee and his fellow Autobots had become clear on quite a few occasions when the little bot had been pushed aside or dismissed because of his childishness and naivety. Albeit the older mechs had known that only so much could be expected of Bumblebee because of his very young age, the fact had still remained that he needed to be watched at all times and many of Optimus' more battle-hardened comrades had found caring for a youngling to be a very difficult and very trying ordeal.

That meant no cursing, no screaming, no rough-housing, no reckless behavior, no firing weapons, no violence, no youngling-in-firing-range, and _absolutely **no**_ high-grade of any kind _anywhere_ even remotely close to Bumblebee. 

Period. No questions asked and no complaints permitted. Trial adjourned.

Optimus had been _very_ clear to his fellow mechs in regards to what he expected of them when they were in the youngling's presence. Most of his comrades had completely agreed with all of his terms. Younglings were too rare and precious to take any chances with these vorns and none of them had wanted to accidentally hurt or traumatize the little bot in any way.

Nevertheless, there had been a few _certain_ hard-afts that had refused to heed their leader's warning. Ironhide and Ratchet had been quick to sort their circuits out and let them know exactly what would happen to them if Bumblebee was harmed in any way.

The brig and medbay had been full that orn.

_I distinctly remember saying _no_ violence,_ Optimus had thought, surprised by the vicious dents on some of his more petulant and crude comrades. _But Ratchet sure knows how to get a point across. I can't complain._

Being threatened by someone that knew your insides better than you did could be quite intimidating, even for the great Optimus Prime.

Unfortunately, Optimus had also learned that being stuck on a battleship for long periods of time with only adult warrior mechs for company could be quite depressing, and at times very boring, for a bubbly and energetic youngling. Especially when none of his usual caretakers and companions were off-shift to play with him.

Optimus had looked at the youngling with dark blue optics, calmly asking, "Why don't you go down to the rec room? I am sure Bluestreak and Hound would be willing to show you some new sparring and self-defense drills."

The smaller bot had pouted at this, baby blue optics shining with dissatisfaction, "They're on shift right now."

"Wheeljack?"

Wheeljack had always been especially close to Bumblebee, often volunteering to look after him when Ironhide had desperately needed a quick recharge away from the bubbly youngling. Bumblebee's bright enthusiasm and endless curiosity regarding the inventor's projects had endeared the little bot to the uncomplaining Wheeljack and had allowed the other mechs a brief respite from the hyperactive minibot.

"He's working on a new weapons project for 'Hide and Warpath. You can hear the explosions all the way down in the mess hall."

"Ratchet?"

"The twins got into a fight again over who should get the better brand of wax and beat the slag out of…"

"Watch your language."

"Sorry."

"Jazz?"

"He's been in the firing range for _joors_. Besides, I'm not allowed in there. 'Hide would go on the fritz again."

"Blurr?"

"On shift with 'Glide and Landmine."

Primus, the little bot had known the workings and rosters of his battleship better than Optimus Prime himself. Perhaps he'd try again…

"Jetfire?"

"He's locked himself in his lab again. Hasn't come out in three orns. Everyone's been wondering where he's getting his energon from though. Ratchet's about ready to break down the door and drag him out by his tailpipe."

Optimus had been very busy for the past seven orns supervising the new weapons stocks they had received from when they had last docked at one of the Autobot bases. He had also spent quite a bit of time looking over the intelligence his spies had gotten of recent Decepticon movement in the adjacent sectors. Having four Decepticon prisoners down in the brig who refused to turn their voice capacitors online had also consumed quite a bit of his and Prowl's schedules as well.

It had not taken long for Optimus to realize that Bumblebee's knowledge of his troops' workings could help him investigate what they had all been doing whilst Optimus himself had been consumed by both the piles of chips that littered his colossal office desk and the Decepticons in general.

Besides, it would keep the youngling occupied for more than a breem, which to him had been a wonderful feat in itself.

At that point in time, Bumblebee had been no more than the Cybertronian equivalent of a seven-year-old Earth child, an age that Optimus and his fellow Autobots had learned was when a youngling required more attention than ever before and needed to be watched like a robo-hawk.

Especially since Bumblebee had developed quite the tendency to get himself into trouble without really trying shortly after he had turned the human-equivalent age of four years. Optimus had been thoroughly amazed by the dangerous situations the youngling had managed to get himself into in such a short period of time.

It had been a difficult, if not emotionally fulfilling and greatly entertaining, period of time for both the youngling's caretakers and all other mechs stationed aboard Optimus Prime's battleship, Artemis I.

"Brawn?"

Optimus Prime had known for a fact that the burly minibot often looked after the youngling by entertaining him for joors with weigh-lifting contests in the rec room. Albeit good-natured in creation, the contests had often resulted in the twins getting into a yet another fight over who was the stronger of the two; and thus, ending up on Ratchet's slag-list once again. Nevertheless, the contests were still held quite often, and much to the delight of Bumblebee. The little bot had always made sure to tell Optimus of the contests and the other minibot's unrivaled strength before Ironhide forced him to go into recharge.

"Doing inventory with Longarm and Grapple."

_Well, that leaves two more out,_ Optimus had thought. "Fireflight?"

Although not being a youngling himself, Fireflight had always acted as carefree and innocent as one despite his age. Optimus had known that Fireflight had just recently left the Youth Sectors when they were attacked by the Decepticons and that the young mech had been haunted by his beloved caretakers' deaths. That was probably why the only time the aerial bot ever seemed to pay attention to anything was when he was briefly in charge of looking after the youngling.

"He's on shift with Sky Lynx and Dogfight." The little bot had then let out an amused snort, "'Fire almost walked right into Sunny and Sides when they were fighting over their wax and almost got deactivated, so he's probably in the medbay instead though."

"Cosmos?"

"He's floating around outside somewhere." The youngling's baby blue optics had shone with sympathy when he had stated, "I feel sorry for him, being out there all alone."

"What about Nightbeat?"

"He's working on one of his cases again and 'Hide says it's best to steer clear of him until 'it's worked itself out of his cooling system', whatever that means."

_Prowl and I leave them to themselves for _seven_ orns to process backed-up work and _this_ is what happens,_ Optimus had thought grimly. "Blaster or Trailbreaker?"

"They're both in the firing range with Jazz. You can hear the music _well _over the gunshots."

"Hoist or First Aid?"

"They're both helping Ratchet with the twins. I think Ratchet's just one microchip short of deactivating them."

_All's normal in the world of the Hatchet and the Twins,_ Optimus had thought with amusement._ I'm not even going to ask about the other minibots. _"Beachcomber?"

"On brig-duty with 'Hide."

_Who came up with _that_ combination?_ Optimus had thought, trying to process the pacifistic Beachcomber sitting beside the bad-tempered Ironhide down in the brig with four Decepticons that had refused to speak for over twenty orns now. _Well, that does explain why the little one isn't with Ironhide right now._

"Rollout?"

"He's locked in solitary for fighting with Sunny."

"I thought Sunstreaker was in the medbay after fighting with his twin?" Optimus had asked.

"He is," Bumblebee had confirmed, "But Sunny had also gotten into a fight with ol' Rolly less than a breem afterwards on his way _to_ the medbay, so Prowl decided just to throw all three of them into the brig after Ratchet has a look at 'em. I feel sorry for poor Glitch though, wouldn't it be horrible to be partners with cranky ol' Rolly."

Optimus had revved his internal systems in agreement, he had known for vorns that it was in fact Glitch that was the veritable spy-master and not Rollout, but he had much more important things to do than lecture the brash agent.

"Inferno?"

"On shift with Warpath and Red Alert."

"Quickmix?"

"He blew up his lab again. That's what that shaking was two orns ago."

"Scoop?"

"On shift with Seaspray and Pointblank."

_Who else…_ Optimus had thought, internal systems revving and processor working at full-throttle as Bumblebee pulled one of the chairs towards the desk. "Mirage?"

"He and Cloudburst lost a bet with Seaspray the other orn, they're stuck cleaning the bulkheads," Bumblebee had grunted, climbing onto the chair and gazing more easily over the top of Optimus' desk. "What're these?"

The youngling had reached forward tentatively and had grabbed the closest of the hundreds of chips that were stacked upon Optimus' desk. "They are documents and data chips about the new weapons we received at the last base." Optimus had purposely left out the fact that at least half of the chips covered the recent movements of Decepticons in the nearby sectors, but the youngling didn't need to know that little bit of information.

"Sounds boring."

Optimus had chuckled at this, softly replying, "It is not the most…stimulating of tasks, but it has to be done." Optimus had then looked at the little minibot before asking, "Would you like to do it for me, little one?"

Bumblebee had shaken his head vigorously at this question and squeaked, "Uh uh, no thank you, these chips are all yours, Optimus!"

The titanic commander had laughed at the youngling's expression before taking the data chip out of his smaller hand and giving the little bot an affectionate pat atop his head. "I thought as much."

"Looks like you're stuck with me," the little youngling had laughed, moving a pile of chips to the side and climbing up onto his desk. Optimus had simply looked on with obvious amusement as the youngling had unabashingly sat himself upon his office desk and had unsubspaced one of the many game-chips Hound had given him. "I keep getting deactivated before I can reach the next level and the giant lizard boss keeps…"

The youngling had jabbered on for the remainder of the orn until Ironhide had finally been relieved of brig-duty and had tracked him down with the assistance of good ol' Hound. "Time for recharge, lil' buddy," Hound had said, giving Optimus an amused look when he saw that the youngling was seated atop his desk. "I think the chief needs to take a nice, long recharge too."

"But I'm not tired," Bumblebee had protested, unable to hide the quiet revving of his internal systems that had indicated that he was already well-past his usual recharge time.

"An' I'm one o' Beach's breedin' glitch-mice," Ironhide had brusquely grunted, striding across the expansive room and picking the exhausted youngling up and slinging him gently beneath one of his immense arms. "I jus' spent th'last two joors interrogatin' four Decepticon punks wit' a glitchin' robo-flower-child, Bee," he had gruffly explained to the wriggling youngling whom he had soothingly cradled in his formidable arms, "I wan' some fresh energon an' a drone t'blow t'bits an' ya're th'only thing standin' in my way. Ya are goin' into recharge!"

"Bumblebee…" Optimus had gazed into the tired baby blue optics of the petulant youngling, silently telling the little bot to behave himself and listen to Ironhide, for all of their sakes. Bumblebee had gone completely limp when he had heard the stern tone that the Autobot leader had used, laying his tiny head against Ironhide's burly chassis and releasing one last quiet rev before snuggling into his titanic guardian.

"Show off," Ironhide had grumbled, giving the smirking Optimus a friendly and thankful glare whilst running a soothing hand down the back of the youngling's tiny head. "Squirt's gotta learn who's boss."

"Not'a squirt…" Bumblebee had murmured, almost in recharge already from the relaxing sound of Ironhide's pulsing spark right next to his auditory receptors. "You not boss, Opt is."

One of the better compliments Optimus had been given throughout the vorns. It probably would have held more merit if it had not come from an exhausted and ornery youngling though.

"Cheeky lil' runt," Ironhide had grunted whilst moving towards the door. "Oh, an' Optimus? There's a drone wit' ya're name written on it down in th'practice room. Time t'see who can deactivate th'thing fastest, my friend."

"Is that a challenge?" The only response Optimus had gotten was a hearty rumble from the older mech as he had disappeared through the doorway, a chuckling Hound not far behind. "We will see, old friend, we will see."

The intense and profound love that Optimus had felt for the little youngling at his creation had only seemed to increase as time had slowly passed. Every smile and giggle that the little bot had ever released had been carefully stored in Optimus' most secure memory banks alongside his other most cherished memories.

Optimus had been both Bumblebee's creator and his elder brother. No creature could take Bumblebee's place in his spark.

Not even the love that Optimus had once felt for Megatron, his own brother, could ever hope to rival that which he felt for the youngling.

Optimus had known for vorns that Bumblebee was his one true weakness. The mere thought of the youngling being hurt had always haunted the darker regions of the Autobot leader's processor, causing him to become even more overprotective of the little bot as he grew older and developed into a lively young mech and competent espionage agent.

The decision to launch the All-Spark into outer space had been a desperate, but necessary strategy that Optimus Prime had not regretted despite some of the more depressing results of the mission.

Bumblebee.

Optimus Prime had been horrified when Prowl had presented him with the list of casualties and injured after the Battle of Tyger Pax. The first name on the _In Critical Condition_ sheet had been his little youngling, Bumblebee.

Pure terror had twisted and gripped his spark like a vice when he had seen that name and Optimus had faintly been able to recall gazing at his military strategist in horror before running at full-speed down to the crowded medbay. The uncontrolled decibels that had filled the hallways had done little to calm the distressed Autobot leader, who had not been able to enter the medbay at all thanks to First Aid.

"No one is permitted to enter, sir," the smaller mech had curtly responded, his arms and chassis covered in internal fluids. "Please wait outside, sir, time is of the essence."The three joors that Optimus had been forced to stand outside of the medbay, him and his fellow Autobots waiting anxiously for word on their youngest comrade, had been the longest and most terrifying of his long life. Every breem that had passed without word had seemed to tear at his aching spark and make his processor buzz with apprehension. 

For the first time in his life, the illustrious Optimus Prime had been on the verge of going on the fritz at any given moment.

The constant crackling of Ironhide's cannons had not helped his nervous dilemma either, but Optimus had known that his old friend had been just as distressed and terrified as he was whilst standing out in that nerve-wracking hallway.

Every Autobot had heard what had happened to their little comrade.

Tortured.

Never had Optimus associated such a disgusting word with his little youngling. A deep hatred had engulfed his processor when Prowl had explained to everyone in the hall what had been done to the little bot.

Megatron had mercilessly tortured the youngling when he had refused to speak a word about the All-Spark. Bumblebee had defied the terrifying Decepticon Lord and had told him exactly where he thought he should go, thus resulting in the horrid condition that the young Autobot had later been discovered in shortly after Megatron had followed the All-Spark into outer space.

The youngling had turned the tide of the war.

The Autobots now had a chance to win.

A very good chance.

Unfortunately, the good news of the All-Spark's escape had done little to raise the spirits of Optimus Prime and his fellow Autobots when Ratchet and Wheeljack had both finally emerged from surgery, Hoist and First Aid still refusing to leave the minibot's side despite his now stable condition.

"He's online," Ratchet had breathed, his dark blue optics haunted and exhausted after having spent the past two joors struggling with Death and fending Him off ceaselessly with his laser-scalpel. "But he'll never speak again."

"What?!" Sunstreaker had demanded, marching from his position beside his twin down the hall and fixing the medic with a murderous glare. "What do ya mean he'll never talk again?!"

Ratchet had fixed the ferocious twin with an even deadlier glare, his temper simmering dangerously close to an apocalyptic eruption, "Megatron crushed his voice capacitor _and_ then ripped it from his throat." The fiery rage and smoldering fury that had burned in the surgeon's optics had been unlike any expression Optimus had ever witnessed upon his old friend's faceplate in all the vorns he had known him. "Bumblebee's life is a thousand times more precious than his slagging voice…I couldn't save both and still have him live through the surgery."

"You did what you could, Ratchet," Optimus had said, placing a comforting and grateful hand on his friend's slumped shoulders. "Thank you."

"I thought I was going to lose him," Ratchet had whispered, his eyes haunted and his hands slightly shaking, "I truly did not think I could save him."

"But you did, Ratchet," Optimus had reassured, "And that is all that matters."

The sight of Bumblebee, his creation and the closest thing to a little brother he would ever have, had nearly knocked Optimus flat onto his aft. Hoist had explained the extent of the injuries to Optimus and Ironhide when they had entered the medbay the next orn, but the two Autobots had still been completely shocked by the little minibot's beaten condition.

"Primus, little one…"

"Look a'what that monster's done t'him," Ironhide had whispered, running one of his thick fingers tenderly down the youngling's cheek. "Primus…"

Never before had Optimus desired to see those shining baby blue optics more than he had at that moment.

And _never_ before had he so desperately wanted to tear Megatron apart.

The deafening silence that had surrounded the medbay and its hallways before the youngling's awakening had been suffocating. Optimus had spent long joors with the little minibot after he finally awoke, helping Bumblebee adjust to his new life without a voice. The frailty of the battered minibot had required a tenderness and gentleness that none of the mechs had utilized around the youngling in many vorns.

Optimus had had no problem reverting back to light hands and gentle touches if it had meant that Bumblebee would have a faster and healthier recovery. He had found himself acting whimsical quite a few times, remembering when Bumblebee had been no more than a tiny sparkling and had been completely dependent on him for everything.

Of course, those glitchy moments had never lasted long. Bumblebee had been sure to find an interesting, if not obnoxious, sound byte to bring Optimus back from Little-Bee Land.

Bumblebee couldn't have the older mech's attention drifting away from him, the poor-injured-very-adorable-very-lovable-very-charming-and-very-good-looking-with-a-glossy-paintjob-little-minibot-youngling that everybody loved, now could he?

Optimus supposed he enjoyed Teen-Bee Land more anyways.

After countless orns of slow recovery under Ratchet's close supervision, the little bot had finally been released with strict orders to rest, stick to the rec room, and only take light-duty shifts. To say the least, Optimus had _not_ been pleased to see the youngling standing before him and requesting the All-Spark scouting mission shortly after his release.

It had taken much arguing and convincing on Bumblebee's part to even remotely sway Optimus towards his side. Optimus had known that the youngling simply wanted to prove himself, but he himself had agreed with Ratchet and the others that Bumblebee needed at least another few orns to recover before following Megatron and the All-Spark into outer space.

Once again, Optimus had been forced to choose between being the charismatic Autobot Commander or being Bumblebee's overprotective creator and elder brother.

Optimus' nerves had been stressed out and his cooling system working overtime since the astrosecond the youngling had departed from Autobot territory and out of his dark blue optic sensor sight. His fellow Autobots had felt similar unease and restlessness regarding the youngling's mission, but most had left their concerns unvoiced for their leader's sake.

Or for their own safety when Ironhide had been within auditory range. The already bad-tempered weapons specialist had gone on countless rampages after Bumblebee's departure, thoroughly terrifying many of his fellow mechs into keeping their voice capacitors muted when in his presence.

Optimus' spark had nearly burst with relief and pride when he had saw a physically intact and undamaged Bumblebee standing in that dark alleyway after he and his fellow Autobots had landed on Earth. The two small human children, Samuel Witwicky and Mikaela Banes, had been quite the sight crouching amidst the youngling's massive feet. Bumblebee's compassionate and bubbly personality had been one of the main reasons Optimus had finally given in and agreed to allow the youngling to follow the All-Spark to Earth.

Optimus himself had not understood the importance of the path in the Witwicky backyard. Sam had seemed greatly distressed by their transforming to hide in his backyard, saying it was not a truck stop or something of the like.

_We weren't that obvious, were we?_ Optimus had thought.

And then there had been the fountain incident…

"Sorry, my bad," he had said, looking down at the crushed fountain beneath his massive feet and a horrified Sam to his lower left.

The parents, Ronald and Judy Witwicky, had seemed like forces to be reckoned with though, so Optimus had quickly come to the conclusion that it had been in his and his fellow Autobot's best interests to remain out of sight.

Primus, Optimus could fully relate to them in the youngling-rearing department. One didn't know what they were getting into until one had to put a screaming and crying youngling into recharge.

What an ordeal that had been for the Autobot leader whenever Ironhide had been given the late-shift or assigned an extended mission. Unfortunately, Ironhide had always been one of his best warriors and Bluestreak, Jazz, and Hound were often sent with him, so putting the youngling into recharge had been Optimus' responsibility on numerous occasions since he was usually stuck onboard the ship to oversee all Autobot movements throughout the sectors.

All the other Autobots had loved to play with the youngling until recharge time came around, then it was off to either Ironhide or Optimus to deal with the cranky bundle of wires. Primus, Bumblebee had had quite the ability to crank his decibels to the highest of levels when he had been younger. Optimus had truly thought that his auditory receptors had been destroyed on quite a few occasions.

Unfortunately, Optimus' immense frame had posed quite a problem in the hiding department and Sam had not thought to warn them of the fact that human homes were not the most stable of things for a giant robot to lean up against for support.

Everything had been going so well. Sam and Mikaela had found Sam's backpack downstairs, with the glasses inside…

And then Sector 7 had interfered.

Optimus had never met a human as strangely irritating and oddly wired as Agent Simmons.

"Bumblebee, stop lubricating on the man," Optimus had scolded, albeit he too had found the youngling's crude behavior to be quite amusing, but someone had had to remain the sane adult and soldier despite the situation.

And then the humans had…

Letting Bumblebee go had been the hardest decision of Optimus' long life of hard decisions. His spark-wrenching and profound conversation with his fellow Autobots atop the observatory had nearly broken the emotionally crumbling commander…

"Please," Optimus had prayed, holding the tiny glasses of Archibald Witwicky up in front of his optic holographic laser, "Let this work."

"Fire it up, Optimus!" Jazz had encouraged from his right side, his voice masking the twisting pain that Optimus knew his lieutenant was desperately trying to keep hidden from him and the others.

"The code…" Optimus had began, carefully looking at the hologram of Earth that had shone before him. "The code on these glasses indicates the All-Spark is two-hundred-and-thirty miles from here."

"I sense the Decepticons are getting ready to mobilize," Ratchet had warned, his dark blue optics gazing out at the endless horizon.

Emotionless and stoic and so different from his usual self, Ironhide had gruffly stated, "They must know it's here as well."

"But what 'bout Bumblebee?" Jazz had angrily demanded, his dark blue optics shining with barely repressed emotions. "We _can't_ jus' leave 'im t'die an' become some human experiment."

Optimus had turned to gaze at his lieutenant and friend, his own dark blue optics shining with an equally painful emotion deep within their ancient depths. "He'll die in vain if we don't accomplish our mission."

Optimus had known that those words alone would not pacify and convince the Autobots standing defiantly before him.

They loved the youngling far too much.

The next words that Optimus had spoken were the most painful and spark-wrenching he could ever remember voicing, the chill of detachment that he had been forced to attach to the words almost making him hate himself, "Bumblebee is a brave soldier." Optimus had known at that moment that he would never be able to forgive himself for speaking such cold and indifferent words regarding the life and death of his precious youngling, his cherished creation, and his beloved little brother. "This is what he would want."

The other Autobots had gazed at their commander with a myriad of emotions dancing across their faceplates and shining within their dark blue optics.

Ratchet had looked frustrated and torn.

Jazz had looked downright livid and seething with anger.

Ironhide had simply looked like he was about to explode and blow up the nearest building.

"Why are we fighting to save the humans?" Ironhide had demanded furiously, his face contorted in disgust. "They're a primitive, violent race."

"Were we so different?" Optimus had quietly asked, hiding his face from his comrades by turning towards the observatory wall, not desiring for them to witness his internal-wall crumbling to dust after its erection thousands of vorns ago.

_Bumblebee…_Optimus had thought, his spark feeling like it had been torn into thousands of tiny pieces in his chest. _Oh, little one…_

"They're a young species," Optimus had continued, "They have much to learn." He had thought of Sam and Mikaela and all the good they had done for him and his fellow Autobots, "But I've seen goodness in them." He had looked out at the horizon at this point, dark blue optics misty as his spark called out to the youngling whom he had loved more than anything else in the universe. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. You all know there's only one way to end this war. We must destroy the cube." Optimus had then opened the front of his chassis to reveal his pulsing blue spark, "If all else fails, I will unite it with the spark in my chest."

_Forgive me, little one…_

"That's suicide," Ratchet had gasped, his face shining with disbelief. "The cube is raw power. It could destroy you both."

_So many comrades I have lost, but none of those losses even compares to the loss of my little youngling. Death would be a welcome respite from this terrible pain…_Optimus had thought, gazing down at the pulsating spark that had seemed to cry out with anguish and sorrow.

"A necessary sacrifice to bring peace to this planet."

_I'm sorry, Bumblebee…_

"We cannot let the humans pay for our mistakes."

_I have loved you since the moment I first laid optics on you. So small and innocent…My greatest desire was to protect you from all the evil in the universe. And now…_

"It's been an honor serving with you all." Optimus Prime had looked at each of his comrades with a deep gratitude and appreciation, thanking them for all the vorns that they had followed him without question or regret, before yelling, "Autobots, ROLL OUT!"

_I love you, little one, more than you'll ever know…_

"We rollin'!"

The fierce conviction of Optimus' speech was slowly dissipating as the Autobots drove through the scorching Mojave Desert and towards the mighty Hoover Dam. Every molecule of Optimus Prime's spark was compelling him to slag his beliefs and save the youngling at all costs.

The sounds of the youngling's muted screams had nearly driven Optimus mad with barely controlled fury and unparalleled rage. The entire universe knew of Optimus Prime to be the protector of all sentient brings, ever calm and empathetic towards those around him. None knew of the fiery wrath that burned deep within his immense frame at the mere thought of his youngling being hurt in any way. Every cry for help and muted scream that Bumblebee had released had ripped down another brick in that dangerously crumbling wall.

The arrival of his fellow Autobots had been the only thing that had stopped Optimus from charging down and ripping the human's helicopter from mid-air and freeing his little youngling. The pain-filled baby blue optics that had gazed into his own dark blue optics for less than an astrosecond had nearly undone him.

If Jazz's voice had not shaken him out of his anger-induced stupor when it had…

Optimus preferred not to think about it. Losing control of himself was something that he had never done before, but seeing Bumblebee in such terrible pain had almost caused him to go on the fritz.

_Forgive me, little one,_ Optimus thought, gazing at the blazing sun overhead and struggling to retain control of his emotions, _Forgive me…_

The revving of three mighty engines behind him had startled Optimus from his stupor yet again, except this time he had received three data messages from his comrades. Each Cybertronian script read the same message and made Optimus' spark pulse with a sudden fierceness that had stunned his logical processor and rational hard-wiring.

His spark had pulsated with obstinate ferocity, demanding that Optimus fight for what has always been his and his peoples: the All-Spark, Cybertron, Bumblebee, freedom…

It was Megatron's fault that Optimus and his fellow Autobots were on Earth, hurting both themselves and the innocent planet's people.

Megatron had almost stolen his youngling before and Optimus wasn't about to let him steal Bumblebee now. The humans may be the ones behind his capture, but it was Megatron's fault that Bumblebee was on Earth in the first place. Optimus Prime would _not_ and could _not_ allow the Decepticon Lord, his brother, steal another Autobot without a fight. Especially since this particular Autobot happened to be his own creation…

His precious little brother.

_I will _not_ let you take him from me, Megatron!_ Optimus thought with fierce determination, _You yourself may be lost forever, my brother, but I will _not _let you steal my other _little_ brother again! Not this time! Over my dead body!_

* * *

Okay, this chapter was even harder to write than the last one. I thought I was going to go nuts. Please let me know if you think it needs revision or not in a review, because I am really not sure. There's just something about writing Optimus Prime...maybe it's his godliness and almightiness. I don't know, but it's been driving me up a wall. If it needs to be revised or I need to change anything just let me know okay, I can take criticism, it won't kill me. Please let me know in a review and thank you very much for reading. I hope it's up to your expectations. 


	6. Chapter VI : Bumblebee I

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots feel about leaving Bumblebee, the closest thing they have ever had to a little brother, behind? Protocol only goes so far, even for a commander.

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a seven-part series, I think, but constructive criticism is welcome. My other stories, _Youngling_ and _Nightmare_, go more into detail about Bumblebee's childhood and relationship with Optimus and Megatron, in case you want more of a backstory. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Little Brother - Chapter VI - Bumblebee I

* * *

The frigid, icy air of the Hoover Dam surrounded the aching frame of the young Autobot and made his internal systems rev in pain. Bumblebee's blue optics gazed lethargically up at the rocky ceiling above and his hydraulics sputtered under the thick sheet of ice that covered him. Every crystal of frozen water that clung to his frame made him fall deeper into an eerie darkness that twisted his young spark and made Bumblebee wish that he was back on _Artemis I_. 

Bumblebee knew that he was the youngest of his kind.

Every moment of his young life had been spent in the presence of older mechs, their sharp, unwavering optics watching over him at all times. The sense of security that he had felt around his fellow Autobots had never wavered and even as Bumblebee grew older he had never once shied away from their protective presence.

Bumblebee's optics misted over with barely suppressed emotions. Never before had he been as scared as he was right now in this freezing, rocky chamber deep in the earth. All the little bot wanted to do at this moment was to curl up into his nice, cozy recharge bed and listen to the quiet crackling of Ironhide's plasma cannons as he added new wires and components to the twin monsters.

Ironhide.

The scouting mission had been emotionally draining for the outgoing youngling, whose only contact with his fellow Autobots for many vorns had been through short inter-planetary data line check ups from some lonely, remote outpost. Bumblebee knew that his persistent need to prove himself to his fellow mechs had become a subject of contention between his guardian and himself.

His guardian had threatened to blow him to itty-bitty-bits on numerous occasions for pulling reckless or stupid-aft stunts. Truthfully, Bumblebee didn't understand why the older mech got so worked up about it when the little bot never got seriously injured, but the youngling knew that Ironhide was all bark and no bite…Or, he was with Bumblebee at least. Quite a few Decepticons had met their maker courtesy of the weapons specialist's titanic plasma cannons.

Bumblebee missed his trigger-happy guardian.

Everything about Ironhide made the young mech feel safe: the gruff attitude, the colossal cannons, the sleek black metal, the petulant voice, and the thick fingers that had lulled Bumblebee into recharge in his childhood. The gruff ol' weapons specialist seemed callous and indifferent at first glance, but Bumblebee knew better, and would vehemently argue with anyone who dared say otherwise.

Bumblebee could remember a hazy time long ago, his processor gathering nothing more than the faint memories and grainy images of his very early childhood. Ironhide had been the youngling's main caretaker throughout what Earth humans called the infant and toddler-years, his militaristic and combative hard-wiring constantly struggling to adapt to the presence of a rambunctious and hyperactive youngling. Bumblebee had heard many entertaining stories from his fellow Autobots, most focusing on Ironhide's inability and failure to keep track of a certain sneaky youngling.

Bumblebee had revved his internal systems in pride at the time, delighted to learn that his first-rate scouting and reconnaissance abilities had already been apparent at such an early age.

Curiosity had always been one of Bumblebee's greatest weaknesses.

The curiosity of youngling's was not to be underestimated, and Bumblebee had had to be one of the most curious creatures in existence. The youngling had lost count of the number of times he had been plucked from behind a crate by the observant Prowl, his wide optics staring at the frowning mech with childish innocence. Prowl had been one of the few mechs immune to Bumblebee's watery optical stare, which made him one of the little bot's biggest obstacles during his frequent explorations of _Artemis I._

Prowl had been patient and accepting though, permitting the youngling's frequent adventures so long as they did not pose a hazard to his delicate health. The long-suffering military strategist had watched Bumblebee's little ventures with amusement, the small bot's antics allowing him a brief respite from his monotonous duties. Of course, Ironhide had been less than thrilled when he had discovered the truce between the two mechs and had made his displeasure known, as usual.

Nevertheless, Bumblebee could faintly remember a time when his curiosity had finally managed to get the better of him. Ironhide had always scheduled his recharge time well before most of the older mechs got off-shift, effectively shielding the youngling from their less-than-savory topics of conversation and horror movie selections. Unfortunately, Ironhide had been so stressed by a recent mission one orn that he made the grave mistake of expecting his fellow Autobots to responsibly watch over the slumbering youngling for one joor in the rec room whilst he let off some blistering steam on some holo-'Cons in the firing range.

What a mistake that had been…

The other mechs had apparently forgotten that Bumblebee was slumbering on one of the couches and had decided to watch a classic horror movie: _The Orn of the Dead._ Of course, the loud screams from the holovid had woken the youngling up not too long after, resulting in a rather traumatized and nightmare-plagued Bumblebee screaming to the high heavens for quite a few orns.

Bumblebee thought his actions rather silly now, but he had been practically a little sparkling at the time so his reaction was excusable. The poor crew though…

Ironhide had quite the temper, to say the least.

Poor Jazz and the twins had borne the brunt of Ironhide's overprotective tantrum that time, their afts and skid plates thoroughly scratched from being thrown into a nearby wall. Seaspray had told Bumblebee that the three had been guilt-ridden wrecks when they had learned of the little bot's nightmares, all of them feeling responsible for the youngling's distress.

Well, on a more positive note, Bumblebee could never complain that he wasn't loved by those around him.

Jazz.

The Special Ops Agent had been Bumblebee's favorite playmate and conspirator when he had been younger, spending most of his spare time with the little bot. Jazz was the ultimate source of entertainment for young Bumblebee, the flashy older mech and the twins happily indulging the youngling's more mischievous side. As long as it wasn't detrimental to his health, of course.

There were few things Jazz and the twins feared, but Ratchet was definitely one of those rare things.

"There's one rule ya gotta live by in order t'survive, Bee," Jazz had said one orn many vorns ago, "An' tha' is: Never slag-off th' Hatchet."

A small missile had zoomed by the lieutenant's head, exploding in a nearby tree and causing many little critters to fly off in terror. The smoking barrel of Ironhide's left cannon could be seen a little ways back, his gravelly voice yelling at Jazz to watch his language around the youngling.

"Sorry, 'Hide!"

"Why?" Bumblebee had asked, his blue optics wide with confusion as he sat atop Sunny's broad shoulders.

The Autobots had been forced to land on a swampy, outer-rim planet called Lygun in order to replenish supplies and munitions. The planet was moderately advanced and had most of the provisions they were in need of, but the mechs had been forced to land a good distance away from the nearest city because of what Sides called an 'unnecessary bout of paranoid-fritz'. This was, of course, referring to Prowl and the military strategist's excessive need for precaution.

"Because," Sides had responded, flicking the little bot's feet playfully, "Good ol' Hatchet can turn you inside-out if you cross him. Or realign your recoil springs so that they will backfire and send you flying into a wall."

No sooner had those words left Sideswipe's voice capacitor had a familiar wrench collided with the back of his head, causing the confident prankster to cry out in pain and indignation.

"Owww!! What'd I do!?"

"Mute it, Sides!" Ratchet had scowled, his face fixed in an intimidating snarl that had made Bumblebee giggle. "Or would you rather I remove your vocal processors next time you come into the 'bay."

The disgruntled twin muttered a few chose words under his breathe and rubbed his throbbing head sheepishly, not wishing to anger the surgeon any more than he already had. An angry Ratchet was a scary Ratchet and the twins were his most frequent patients, so ensuing his wrath was never a good thing.

"Never thinks before he speaks," mumbled Sunny whilst glaring at his twin and adjusting the youngling into a more comfortable position on his shoulders. "Moron…"

Bumblebee had merely gazed out over the far-reaching forests of Lygun, content to sit atop the tall mech's shoulders and watch the planet's wood land animals skitter and twitter throughout the undergrowth. He had been the Cybertronian equivalent of a four-year-old Earth child, so his smaller legs had not lasted very long on the rocky trails that had led from _Artemis I_ to the Lygun city.

"I like this planet," Bumblebee had stated, his little legs gently swinging against Sunny's lower chassis, "It's really pretty and has lots of water for 'Spray."

"I don't see no water, Bee."

"Course you don't, Jazzy," Bumblebee had replied, "You're too _**short**_."

The lieutenant had stopped walking instantly, turning around and glaring at the little youngling with dangerous optics. "What'd ya jus' say?!"

Bumblebee had clicked innocently, his optics shining and legs swinging, "You're too _**short**_ to see the ocean over there."

The youngling's observation had caused the tallest of the Autobots to look to the west, their optics being greeted by a vast expanse of deep blue water and light blue skies.

"Bee's right," noted Perceptor whilst glancing at an excited Seaspray, "There is an ocean due west."

"Short, eh?" Jazz had glared at the little bot, "What's ya're excuse, shorty, I'm over two heads taller than ya."

"But I've got Sunny," had clicked the youngling, "An he's even taller than you."

"That's it!" Jazz had growled whilst making a swipe for Bumblebee's leg, "Now it's war!"

Bumblebee had shrieked with laughter, his small hands desperately holding onto the warrior mech's shoulders and head, "Sunny! Protect me!"

"Oh no you don't!" Sunstreaker had smirked devilishly, shoving Jazz to the side and swinging Bumblebee down into his burly arms. "This little rust stain's **_my_** prisoner!"

"No I'm not," Bumblebee had giggled indignantly, "I'm nobody's prisoner!" The youngling had shrieked when Sunny disappeared into the dense jungle, his little voice shouting, "Sides! Jazz! Help me!"

"You can't take that!" Jazz had yelled playfully, "It's mine!"

"We'll save you, Bee!"

The other Autobots had merely stared after the three mechs and squealing little youngling with amusement, their voice capacitors barely containing their laughter at the various shouts and shrieks they heard from the thick jungle. Bumblebee could remember the chuckles of the older mechs when they had returned to the trail, Sunny holding little Bumblebee upside down whilst Jazz and Sides plucked various pieces of vines and leaves out of their joints and wires.

"I'm safe!" Bumblebee had shrieked before his sensitive wires were mercilessly attacked by Sunny's fingers. "Stop!! No fair!! Traitor!!" The warrior mech's fingers had merely continued to tickle the little youngling, one of the rare moments when his arrogant attitude was not suffocating those around him. "Help!! Help!!"

Bumblebee missed those moments…

The biting cold of cryostasis snaked its way back into Bumblebee's processor, the warmth that thoughts of his gruff guardians brought wiped away once again. The Autobot released a quiet whimper from his broken voice capacitor. His fellow Autobots wouldn't leave him behind, would they?

Jazz wouldn't leave his little buddy behind, would he?

Ratchet wouldn't leave his little helper behind, would he?

Ironhide wouldn't leave his little youngling behind, would he?

And Optimus…

Bumblebee silently berated himself, surprised by his own selfish thoughts. He was the Cybertronian equivalent of a sixteen-year-old Earth child and nearly an adult by both world's standards, so why wasn't he acting like one?! He'd been raised and programmed better than this, hadn't he?! He was an Autobot for Primus' sake! He was supposed to be fearless and daring, not afraid to face death head-on if it was for the greater good. So why was he so scared?

Darkness…

A dark presence flittered just outside of Bumblebee's processor, causing the little Autobot to subconsciously tremble in apprehension. He remembered this frightening aura, both from his early childhood at the Beta Nebulae Military Base and recent experience at the Battle of Tyger Pax. The fear that Bumblebee felt when in this monster's presence was unlike any other, suffocating the young scout and making him question his abilities to fight against the almighty tyrant.

And then his spark flared with unknown courage.

Bumblebee had only ever been able to sense two beings in the universe: Optimus Prime and Megatron. Everything about the two charismatic mechs was entirely different: their ideals, their personalities, their mannerisms, their fighting styles, even their chose in femmes from what Bumblebee had heard from the older mechs.

Everything.

And those were the reasons why Bumblebee had been so shocked many vorns ago when he had been told that Optimus Prime and Megatron were spark-brothers. Created by the same creator within less than one vorn of one another and specifically programmed to be both similar and opposite in every way. They were not twins like Sunny or Sides since they did not come from the same split spark, but they did share thousands of pieces of the same spark.

Bumblebee had always wanted a brother, or more specifically, an older brother.

When Jazz had told Bumblebee down in the brig that he considered him to be his own younger brother, he had been overjoyed and had nearly gone on the fritz with barely suppressed excitement. Bumblebee loved all of his former caretakers unconditionally, but Jazz had always been one of his favorite playmates as a youngling and the knowledge that the flashy mech returned his brotherly feelings almost seemed too good to be true to the bubbly little bot.

Despite his big brother/little brother relationship with Jazz, the sense of well-being and security that Bumblebee felt when in Optimus Prime's omnipotent presence made the minibot wonder if there was something his commander wasn't telling him. But, Optimus would never hide anything important from him, would he? The colossal leader of the Autobots had been with Bumblebee since he could remember, every one moment of his life spent with the knowledge that Optimus was there, waiting to welcome him with open arms and a loving spark.

He could sense Megatron…

The cavernous darkness and frigid cold that surrounded the Decepticon Lord had haunted Bumblebee since his early childhood. Everything about the titanic mech was both frightening and familiar, thoroughly confusing the young Autobot scout. Albeit both were very different, there was a stark similarity between Optimus' and Megatron's sparks that Bumblebee was able to sense when in their presences. Optimus' was warm and glowing whilst Megatron's was cold and unforgiving. One was endlessly loving whilst the other was frighteningly cruel. Both total opposites but with an underlying parallel between the two brothers.

Bumblebee felt a gentle warmth and unwavering security when within Optimus' presence whilst Megatron's dark aura made him feel small and, to his immense surpise, only slightly fearful. Despite his initial terror during their first encounter, Bumblebee had been startled to realize as he grew older that although he was wary of what Megatron was capable of, he was not truly scared of the usually terrifying mech.

His complete lack of fear and fierce confidence when in Megatron's presence had stunned both himself and his fellow Autobots for hundreds of vorns. For some reason that he could not hope to process, Bumblebee simply could not seem to muster up an ounce of fear towards Megatron. And despite the intense anger that he felt towards the Decepticon Lord's actions and beliefs, the Autobot scout could not bring himself to hate Megatron either.

There was _something_ stopping him from fearing or hating the brutal mech and, to his tremendous frustration, Bumblebee had no idea what it was that prevented him from ever feeling what his fellow Autobots did towards Megatron. It was downright confusing and utterly fascinating at the same time.

There had been times when _Megatron_ had felt like _Optimus_. The Decepticon Lord had an aura that at first prod felt almost identical to the Autobot commander's, which the young scout assumed was because of their brotherhood. There were _huge_ differences of course, much like Sunny and Sides, but overall, they were fairly similar and Bumblebee wondered what they had been like before Megatron had become corrupted by his thirst for absolute power.

After all, Bumblebee had been created long after the war had started. He had come into being during such a turbulent time that he had never even met his own creator, a fact that bothered him more than he would ever let on. Optimus Prime and the other Autobots had taken him in and raised him despite their militaristic situation. They could have easily left him to die, instead of wasting valuable resources on the delicate health and rearing of a youngling.

Bumblebee was almost afraid to ask _why_ they had taken him in when he had been such a pain in the aft. He knew younglings were precious and rare, but truthfully, his frame and hard-wiring wasn't exactly meant for war. Bumblebee was small and weak, his frame not designed for combat situations unlike his fellow minibots. One hit from a larger mech and he was down for the count for at least a few orns.

Primus, Bumblebee was small even by minibot standards.

Perhaps that was why he had been captured so easily by the humans. None of his fellow Autobots would have gone down so quickly, his own small frame preventing him from escaping the helicopter's hold unlike the bigger Ironhide and Optimus whose strong hydraulics would have allowed them to break free. Bumblebee himself was quick, but not near as fast as the speedy and flashy Jazz. For Primus' sake, Ratchet was a medic and even he had more firepower than Bumblebee! That's sad.

The Battle of Tyger Pax had been Bumblebee's chance to prove himself and show that he was every bit as capable as his larger, stronger comrades. The goal of the mission had been to distract Megatron and his Decepticons long enough for Optimus to launch the All-Spark into outer space.

Unfortunately, Bumblebee's strange ability to sense the Decepticon Lord had been anything but helpful during the vicious battle and had ultimately led to his team's capture at Megatron's hands. He had been forced to watch his fellow Autobots being tortured by the cruel mech and his followers while he himself was left alone. Untouched until…

Bumblebee's internal systems revved at the horrible memories, his young spark not wishing to remember the excruciating torture and terrible anguish that he had suffered at the hands of the Decepticons. Despite Optimus' and his fellow Autobots' reasonable assumptions, Megatron had not been the one interrogating the young scout and had not once touched his tiny frame. But he had not once tried to stop it either…

His torturer had been Swindle.

The Decepticon interrogator, munitions expert, devious con-man, and one-robot black-market had been his sole torturer. Swindle had been the one to ruthlessly slash his right arm off, to severely damage his legs and left hip joint, to pitilessly tear his chassis apart, and to callously shred his spark casing. Swindle had been the one to mercilessly rip his voice capacitor out…

Not Megatron.

The Decepticon Lord had watched the entire interrogation process, his blood red optics fixed silently on the young Autobot scout and his demon-like face unreadable. He had not once turned his optics from Bumblebee's, their intense red depths boring into the youngling like twin lasers and glaring into his stubborn little spark.

He was the only survivor.

The time between his brutal interrogation at Tyger Pax and his awakening aboard the Autobot flagship had been nothing more than a fuzzy blur to the young scout, the pain that he had felt upon regaining consciousness was the first semblance of reality Bumblebee had experienced in orns.

His optics had strained to gaze at those around him, taking in the towering forms of the familiar medics that anxiously surrounded his medical berth. Relief had flooded his internal systems when had seen the loving blue optics of his comrades, his frame relaxing slightly at the sight of them.

Until he tried to speak…

Bumblebee's entire frame had seized up when he had been unable to speak, the gears of his damaged voice capacitor twisting and scraping against one another in such an excruciating way that the young Autobot could not help but writhe in agony. Every time he attempted to cry out his processor was overwhelmed with severe bolts of pain, the rest of his injuries becoming aggravated by the sudden jolts.

Terrifying fear had gripped his young spark, causing his battered internal systems to rev dangerously and his cooling systems to work desperately to cool down his overheated frame. The only thing that had stopped Bumblebee from going into mechanical shock for the third time had been a colossal hand gently cradling his tiny head and a soothing voice whispering into his auditory receptors.

Optimus.

The powerful Autobot commander had tenderly soothed the youngling back into a deep slumber, his comforting presence lulling Bumblebee and allowing him to finally feel safe aboard the battleship. That had been the first of many orns that Bumblebee would be dependent on his fellow Autobots to tend to his every achy need. The inability to speak or laugh had crushed Bumblebee, making him sullen and withdrawn for quite some time. It had been Jazz who had finally urged Bumblebee to use sound bytes, an effective, simple, and very…interesting way to communicate.

Bumblebee had driven the crew fritzy with annoying sound bytes for his next half-vorn of slow recovery in the medbay.

Poor Ratchet.

And then Bumblebee had requested the All-Spark scouting mission not even two orns after his release, both shocking and infuriating quite a few of his former caretakers and causing an uproar throughout the entire battleship. Ironhide had been livid, Jazz had thrown a tantrum, the twins had thrown an even worse tantrum the next orn after trying to lock Bumblebee in one of the storage rooms whilst threatening everyone onboard, and the other Autobots had vehemently tried to persuade the youngling to allow one of them to take the mission instead.

And then there had been Optimus…

It had taken _a lot_ of persuading and pleading on Bumblebee's part to convince the Autobot leader to give him the mission, but the young scout had eventually succeeded. It had upset quite a few of his comrades, but Bumblebee had been determined to finish what he had started. And he was pretty sure that he was one of the only beings in the universe that could sense Megatron, even at a distance.

Wandering throughout the universe, without the company of his fellow Autobots and with no former caretakers to watch over him, had been a completely new experience for the young mech. Despite his status as a soldier, his older comrades had had an annoying tendency of being terribly overprotective and there had been many times when the little bot had felt like he was being suffocated by their watchful optics. The scouting mission had given Bumblebee a taste of something he had never felt before…

Independence.

Despite the initial homesickness and loneliness that he had felt, Bumblebee had slowly adjusted to working on his own and his espionage abilities had truly been put to the test for the first time in his young life. Bumblebee had relished not being watched at all times and had been amazed by the fact that he could do what he wanted so long as it did not jeopardize or distract him from his mission.

Then again, Bumblebee's young age and inexperience had shone through not too long into the mission during one of his inter-planetary transmissions with his protective guardian. The sound of Ironhide's voice after three long vorns had moved the young Autobot to tears, his isolation and prolonged separation from his caretakers suddenly hitting him full-force. Every hitch in the transmission, the equivalent of a human sob or hiccup, had reminded both the weapons specialist and the young scout of a hard truth…

Bumblebee was still very much a youngling.

If he had been living on Cybertron at this point in time, Bumblebee would still be in the Youth Sectors for the Cybertronian equivalent of another three Earth years. But the youngling had been forced to grow up quicker than his comrades had because of the war and the danger that he was in at all times. Bumblebee was a youngling living the life of an adult mech. But his survival was the Autobot's top priority and if being trained in the art of war at an early age meant that he would survive to adulthood, then so be it.

Bumblebee's arrival on Earth had been inconspicuous and successful, his actions soon being focused on staying away from Decepticons, finding the human descendents of Captain Archibald Witwicky, and using the imprints on the Captain's glasses to locate the All-Spark. Quite a lot of tasks for a lone Autobot to perform by himself.

_Well,_ Bumblebee had thought whilst pulling into the back parking lot ofBolivia's Finest Quality Used Cars and Petting Zoo in his 1977 Chevrolet Camaro alternate mode, _At least I get to have a nice, sleek alternate mode unlike on all those other planets._

And then, after saving the two human children from that Pit-slagging Decepticon Barricade, Mikaela had called him a piece of crap!

Jazz and the twins would have been _very_ proud of the little tantrum Bumblebee had thrown under that interstate tunnel. Albeit, Bumblebee himself was _**very**_ proud of his sleek, new 2009 Chevrolet Camaro disguise and he was sure that his flashy new paintjob would have made Sunny, the green-opticed psycho he was, go on the fritz with envy.

The sweet relief that Bumblebee had felt when he had finally been reunited with his fellow Autobots had nearly overwhelmed both his processor and his spark. Sam and Mikaela had merely gazed up at the towering mechs with wide eyes and gaping jaws, the sight of the huge robots stunning them into an awed silence. Bumblebee had just been happy to see that they were all on-line and functioning after such a long period of time.

Jazz had given him a hearty pat on the back.

Ratchet had given him a thorough internal and external scan.

Ironhide had given him a gruff smile and affectionate clap on the shoulder.

Optimus' commanding presence had burned brilliantly through the deep darkness and had given the young scout his first sense of true reassurance and genuine contentment in many vorns.

And then they had traveled to the Witwicky household and what a fiasco that had been…

Bumblebee had been more than slightly embarrassed by his comrades' inabilities to listen to reason or even _attempt_ to blend into the world around them. The sight of Optimus trekking through the backyard had caused Bumblebee to sigh in frustration, shocked by his intelligent leader's inability to process the trouble they would have if Ronald or Judy Witwicky caught sight of him. Unfortunately, Bumblebee's lack of voice had once again worked against him and the Autobots had come barging into the yard.

The Witwicky's precious water fountain, stone pathway, personal greenhouse, and prized flowers hadn't even had a chance at the feet of the Autobots. And then Ratchet had fallen into the local transformer, cutting off all electricity in Sam's neighborhood. If he had been able to bang his head against a nearby wall without breaking it, Bumblebee would have gladly done so in an attempt to alleviate his mounting humiliation.

_I don't know them,_ Bumblebee had thought miserably, _I was adopted._ Of course, this was a rather literal truth but Bumblebee liked the human saying too much to care about its meaning at that moment. And Ironhide had then tried to terminate Mojo, Sam's pet chihuahua! _It's no wonder every pet I ever acquired ended up dead! _And then trying to terminate Sam's parents… _Primus, help me!_

And then everything had gone to Pit…

Bumblebee had known the instant he laid optics on the Sector 7 agents that they were bad news and that they needed to get as far away from them as possible. The leader, Agent Simmons was his name, was the worst of them and the urge to do something nasty to the obnoxious man had simply been too much for the young scout to resist despite the stern reprimand he had received from his commander later.

Apparently lubrication was a perfect way to both humiliate and frag-off the odd little agent. And ensue his cruel wrath as well…

The need to protect Sam and Mikaela had overrode all other thoughts that the young scout's processor had produced and the pain that had followed afterwards at the hands of the humans had been unlike any Bumblebee had ever felt before and was very different than Decepticon torture methods.

The sharp rope-like missiles that had wedged themselves in his forearms and legs had wrenched Bumblebee cruelly to the hard concrete, smashing his faceplate and jarring his aching voice capacitor.

And then the icy cold had come.

Every icy molecule of the white cryostasis-inducing particles had caused the youngling to cry out in pain, his optics desperately searching for his commander and comrades atop the bridge. His aching voice capacitor had strained frantically in an attempt to call out for help, distorted sounds and mangled clicks the closest to names Bumblebee could ever hope to achieve.

_Where are they?!_ Bumblebee had thought, vaguely hearing Sam's frantic cries for them to leave him alone, _Why can't I feel them?!_ A dangerous cold had begun to descend over his whole frame, causing his processor to slowly go into stasis. _Jazz? _His adoptive older brother would save him, he always did. _Ratchet?_ The medic was very protective of his charges, he would come. _Ironhide? _His trigger-happy guardian had always taken care of and protected him, he would watch over him. _Optimus?!_

The burning aura of Optimus had dimmed by that point, Bumblebee's treasured ability to sense and feel the Autobot leader dissolving with every second that passed and causing the youngling to cry out in desperation. _Why are you leaving me?!_

Realization had soon dawned on Bumblebee and his optics faded as he quickly slipped into cryostasis. His thoughts had been tragic and sweet, the chances of him ever waking up again slim. _I'm sorry._

And now, as Bumblebee heard the echo of familiar voices in his icy prison, his spark soared with hope and optimism for the first time in joors. Sam and Mikaela had come to save him. But as the cold slowly slipped away from him, Bumblebee could feel Megatron's presence close by and his body quickly forced itself to stand and confront the humans before him. He would not allow himself to be captured again.

Only the soothing words of Sam had managed to lull him out of his paranoid haze and his auditory receptors had swiveled at the quiet murmurings of the small humans before him. But Bumblebee didn't need to hear their words to know what awaited him in the neighboring hangar. He could sense it...

The All-Spark.

* * *

Yay!! It's finally done (gives herself a pat on the back). Bumblebee was a pain in the butt to write, nearly as bad as Optimus. Whew, only one more chapter to go and then this story is done. I hope this chapter is as good as the others because it took me quite a while to write. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it and that it lived up to your expectations. Thank you for reading! 


	7. Chapter VII : Bumblebee II

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

I would like to thank MoonstarWorld for all of the wonderful suggestions s/he has kindly given me over the past month or so, and that quite a few of the idea's have allowed my imagination to produce many of the works that you have seen written. So I would simply like to give him/her a special thank you.

And yes, I know that the Optimus/Megatron/Bumblebee brother relationship seems very complicated and confusing, but I want it to be rather confusing for all of them (especially Bumblebee) since the little guy had a **_very_** unusual creation. I just hope that you all are willing to bear with me as I explore this new relationship that I am trying to write. It is very difficult and if it seems too weird, just let me know, okay. Thank you.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Little Brother - Chapter VII - Bumblebee II

* * *

The towering walls of the massive room made Bumblebee feel even smaller than he usually did, which was saying a lot since he was a very small bot to begin with. Every step he took brought him a little closer to the one object that could both save and destroy his race. The ghostly pulse of energy that coursed through the rugged hallways was unlike anything Bumblebee had ever felt before, the continuous vibrations of power making his young spark shudder with both excitement and anxiety. 

The All-Spark.

Bumblebee gazed up at the titanic cube, his small body shivering at the sight of it and his light blue optics glowing eerily as invisible tendrils of energy twisted throughout the frigid air. He clicked in wonder, slowly reaching out and running his fingers over the rough surface. The feel of the Cybertronian glyphs beneath his fingers sent a large surge of energy through the minibot, his internal systems revving as the cube began to shift and compress unto itself.

"Whoa, whoa, he's doin' somethin'," murmured Robert Epps, the friendly human soldier who had been excited to walk alongside Bumblebee astroseconds ago, "He's doin' somethin'."

Bumblebee took a deep breathe and closed his optics, allowing the overwhelming power of the All-Spark to freely flow throughout his battered body and weave through his processor and CPU. The gears and gyros of his mutilated voice capacitor grinded together painfully, twisting and turning into their rightful spots. His spark reached out to the Cube, crackling with a new vigor and bubbling with unanswered questions. However, there was one question above all others that Bumblebee wished to know the answer too…

_Who is my Creator?_ Bumblebee asked tentatively, his young processor soothed by the great warmth of the All-Spark and quietly buzzing with anticipation. _Please, I ask for nothing more than to know who brought me into the world._

A quiet voice drifted into Bumblebee's processor, softly whispering, _You already know the answer to such a question, little one. _The voice gently soothed his young spark and continued to whisper, _You have known since the beginning for your Creator has been with and loved you unconditionally since the moment of your birth._

A brilliant warmth suddenly enveloped Bumblebee's entire frame and conquered the yawning darkness that had haunted him, his young spark instinctively recognizing the powerful pulses that the All-Spark presented to him. No other being in the whole universe had the same intense and loving spark that this familiar person possessed, every molecule of his spark an oasis of love that had lulled Bumblebee into slumber more times than the youngling could ever recall. The All-Spark presented Bumblebee with the almighty pulse of his Creator's spark, and Bumblebee recognized it within an astrosecond…

Optimus Prime.

The young scout gasped, his light blue optics misting over and his throbbing spark twisting within its protective casing, desperately reaching out to the being that had single-handedly created it. Bumblebee shook his head vigorously and gazed at the shifting Cube, his processor overrun with questions that only the great Optimus Prime, his creator, could answer. Every single question began with 'why?'

Why did Optimus never tell him of their relation?

Why did Optimus want to create a sparkling?

Why did Optimus even _bother_ to create him?

And was there a femme involved? Did he have another Creator?

Or had Optimus discovered another way that only he, the holder of the Creation Matrix, could create life?

Did that mean that Optimus was both his Creator and his…brother?

Bumblebee shifted uneasily, the sudden relief that had swarmed through his young processor and spark slowly dissipating as cold realization dawned on him. Another being that was of relation to him was sleeping within the next room, locked in a deep cryostasis that did not stop his darkened spark from reaching out to the smaller being. The little spy turned to briefly gaze in the other chamber's direction, Megatron's intense interest in him and his aversion to physically causing harm to the young mech suddenly becoming clear to the Autobot.

Memories of Tyger Pax haunted his processor once again, Bumblebee desperately trying to uncover the hazy files that he had hidden away vorns ago. He had been so beaten by the time news of the All-Spark had reached the Decepticon Lord that he had not even been able to see clearly out of his optics. He could faintly remember hearing Swindle and the others curse in anger before a vicious hand had seized—

Bumblebee froze, his whole frame going rigid as understanding dawned on him. It had not been Swindle's thick, stubby fingers that had seized him by the throat, but vicious claws that had wrapped around his small head and furiously demanded to know where the Autobot forces had taken the Cube. Swindle had been demanding to kill the small Autobot, telling his leader that keeping the young scout around was useless and time-consuming. After all, no puny, little Autobot scout would be privy to the information that was dispersed within the Autobot's inner circle and higher chain of command.

"The All-Spark! Where _**is**_ it?" Swindle's raspy voice had demanded, his cannons and lasers searing painfully through Bumblebee's smaller body, "Tell us and your death will be mercifully swift." Bumblebee had simply glared at the 'Con, his hazy blue optics stubborn and unwavering. "Defy us…and your agony will _**never**_ end! Speak!"

In spite of this, Megatron had refused to allow the con-man to finish off the young Autobot and had simply stood off to the side throughout the entire interrogation. Until word of the All-Spark had reached his receptors, then Megatron had gone fritzy and had grabbed the little bot by his throat. Nevertheless, Bumblebee had refused to speak one word and had been so battered and beaten by that point that he really had had no idea of what was going on around him.

The hazy files were clarified by the power of the All-Spark, their content shocking the young mech who had worked so hard to repress them over the past few vorns. But the young scout needed to know what had happened because the mystery behind the Lord of the Decepticons puzzled him even more so than his own creation.

"I will kill him for this," Megatron had snarled, his unbridled anger piercing into Bumblebee's sensitive spark like an energon knife, "He has taken away what is **_mine!!_**"

The fury behind Megatron's words had terrified every mech in the room except for the tiny minibot whom the demon-like lord had pinned beneath him. Unfortunately, the overwhelming anger that had coursed through the titanic 'Con's processor had then caused him to commit an act that would forever scar both Decepticon Lord and the young mech that was at his unforgiving mercy. Rage had clouded his thoughts, allowing him to forget himself and whom he was holding and commit a horrid act against this tiny bot…

This little brother whom he had never known.

Vicious claws had ripped into the delicate gears and gyros of Bumblebee's voice capacitor, tearing through the irreparable apparatuses that lie beneath the thin outer armor that rested below his jaw-line. The short, piercing scream of indescribable pain had been what snapped Megatron out of his enraged haze, his blood red optics gazing at the voice capacitor dangling within his energon-covered claws.

The last thing Bumblebee had heard after his voice capacitor had been ripped from his throat had been the agonized and tortured cry of an uncontrolled warrior as he ascended into the darkening sky as fast as his jet engines would allow, explosions shaking the halls as the Autobot forces collided with the Decepticons.

The search for the All-Spark within the deepest reaches of space had finally begun.

For the first time in his life, Megatron had flown away from an enemy with regret and the foreign pang of guilt gripping at his spark. It was a feeling that the Decepticon Lord had never felt before, and probably would never feel again, unless it involved the young Autobot that he himself had left for dead. Nevertheless, the All-Spark had soon become his main priority and had successfully pushed the young bot out of his fanatical processor.

For the time being, at least.

However, Bumblebee had miraculously survived his torture sessions at Tyger Pax and had recovered from the near-fatal injuries, his crushed and useless vocal capacitor the only outward sign of his former wounds. The harrowing near-death experience had only made the young Autobot even more determined to track down both Megatron and the All-Spark. As long as Bumblebee didn't run into Swindle again, he would be fine.

Everything about the con-man now terrified the young mech, a sudden fear that he was ashamed of and was well-aware that the entire crew had noticed his nervous trembles whenever the 'Con's name was mentioned in a conversation. Every time he either heard the name or thought of the 'Con, Bumblebee could feel every molecule of his spark shake in remembrance of the atrocities that Swindle had committed against both his comrades and himself.

Bumblebee had been very surprised when a certain short-tempered and psychotic warrior mech had comforted him shortly after he had awoken from recharge. Sunstreaker had been very quiet, his dark blue optics giving away the simmering anger that had lurked just below the surface of his unusually cool and nonviolent demeanor. The young Autobot had later found out from Sideswipe that Sunstreaker had encountered Swindle in a nearby hallway shortly after Megatron had flown after the All-Spark.

The aggressive Autobot and capitalistic Decepticon had encountered one another a few corridors down from the interrogation sight. Of course, Sunny had then proceeded to beat the slagging Pit out of the 'Con, only stopping when the ceiling had collapsed and separated the two warring mechs. Then, when Bumblebee had finally been able to tell his fellow Autobots about his torturer…well, to say the least, Sunstreaker had fritzed and had had to be deactivated and hauled down to the brig by five other mechs.

"I'm going to rip him limb from limb!" Sunstreaker had snarled, turning to gaze at Optimus and Ironhide with blazing optics, "And _you_ **_can't_** stop me!!"

Sunstreaker had been secretly hunting the Decepticon entrepreneur when the little scout had left, the need for revenge eating at his spark and the instinct to protect his little buddy from future harm overriding many of his rationale systems. If the warrior Autobot ever encountered Swindle again, he would personally guarantee that the con-man would never sell another piece of scrap **_ever_** again.

The shock of this sudden knowledge blinded Bumblebee for a few long moments, until the loud sound of explosions filtered into his audio receptors and his voice capacitor twisted with a final, painful click. His optics cleared and his internal systems whirred and his processor worked itself into overdrive as his spark reached out to the two beings that had shaped his young life.

One light, one dark.

The All-Spark seemed to crackle with energy, Bumblebee's small hands holding it with deft fingers and his bright blue optics gazing around the chamber at the little humans that stood amongst him.

"Message from star fleet, Captain— let's get to it!" Bumblebee chirruped. The little bot wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was just something about John Wayne and Star Trek voices that was really catchy when used in sound bytes.

"He's right, we stay here we're screwed with Megatron in the other hangar," said Will Lennox, staring at the Sector 7 agents with steely eyes and a deep frown, "Mission City's twenty-two miles away. We're gonna sneak that cube out of here and we're gonna hide it somewhere in the city."

"Good! Right!" agreed the Secretary of Defense. The man certainly had no issue with taking matters seriously when actions were needed, unlike his fellow government associates and top secret organization operatives.

"But we cannot make a stand without the Air Force," warned Lennox, "Sir, you've got to figure out some way to get word out to them." He turned to his men, "Let's move."

"This place must have some kind of radio link," reasoned Keller, turning to the antsy agent beside him, "Short wave, there should be."

"Yes, of course," agreed Simmons, "In the alien archives, Sir, there's an old army radio console…"

"Will it work?"

"I…mean, I don't know, but…" Simmons made wild gestures with his arms and officially convinced Bumblebee that some organics were simply too difficult to process without fear of causing his processor a permanent glitch.

Bumblebee quickly transformed into his alternate mode when the soldiers began to move out, opening his doors when Lennox yelled, "Alright, Sam, get into the car! Mr. Secretary, get our birds into the air and when we get to the city we're gonna find a radio and contact the jets! Lets do this!"

The shrill sirens of the Hoover Dam resounded throughout the surrounding area as the icy prison that had held Megatron for over a vorn slowly began to melt beneath the desert heat. Bumblebee could feel the Decepticon Lord, his own older brother, reaching out to him through their spark-bond. Every tendril of darkness that gripped at his young spark held a new meaning, completely different now that Bumblebee knew the truth that was behind his creation.

_**Mine!!**_

Bumblebee accelerated into overdrive as the vast desert landscape began to unfold around them and the glowing presence of another being soothed his quivering spark. The young scout clicked happily, immediately responding to Optimus' warmth and wasting no time in reaching out to the Autobot commander. Sweet relief spread into the youngling's spark before another wave of love and reassurance came from Optimus and soothed all of his prior worries away.

Optimus was here. Everything would be fine now.

"It's Optimus," stated Sam, relief clear in his voice at the sight of the approaching blue-and-red-flamed Peterbilt.

Bumblebee revved his engine in greeting and sent messages to each of the older mechs as they made swift U-turns behind the caravan of military vehicles. Every single one of the messages was responded too with relieved posts, emotions running high at the sight of their youngest member. The jovial honking made Bumblebee shudder with self-assurance and the young minibot simply basked in the protective presence of his fellow Autobots.

_Little one…_ echoed Optimus' voice, the emotion behind those two familiar words soothing Bumblebee and almost giving him the much needed courage to confess all of his recent discoveries to the powerful Autobot commander.

_I forgive you,_ replied Bumblebee, his feelings strong and firm towards the subject that he knew would haunt his commander's processor, _And don't argue with me on this, sir._

The young mech's receptors were met with tense silence before a wave of warmth and affection drifted through their spark-bond. Bumblebee inwardly smiled at the colossal mech's form of apology and immersed himself in the comforting love that Optimus freely projected through their bond. No being could soothe him like Optimus Prime, his Creator, his protector, the mech that gave him the gift of life.

His charismatic commander and loving older brother.

Bumblebee gazed at the approaching skyline of Mission City, falling back to drive between Jazz and Ironhide and allowing their familiar presence to calm his jittery nervous system. He could feel Sam and Mikaela shuffling around inside of him, their movements anxious and jerky as the Autobots exited onto one of the main highways leading into the large metropolis.

The sound of police sirens could be heard in the far distance, Bumblebee revving his engine anxiously as Jazz pulled up beside him and gave him a gentle nudge on his rear bumper. Bumblebee knew that the older mech was simply relieved to see him, and gladly sped up to drive beside the Special Operations officer as the sound of crashing cars could be heard clearly behind them.

The Decepticons had arrived.

"No, no, no, no," chanted Sam, leaning over Mikaela to see out the driver's side.

"What?!" demanded Mikaela, frightened by the nervous tremors in Sam's voice.

"It's the same cop!" Sam replied, straining to get a good look at the approaching Decepticons, "Block him! Block him! Block him!"

_Ya ready, lil' buddy?_ asked Jazz, his engines revving as the clear roars of their enemies echoed from behind, _It's now or never._

Ironhide and Ratchet drove alongside Optimus Prime, their strong frames forming an impenetrable wall around the almighty Autobot commander. It was not until the large mech demanded that the two other Autobots head into the city and allow him to deal with the incoming Decepticon that the Hummer and Topkick left the flaming Peterbilt's side. It was their loyalty to their cause and their concern for the youngling that forced them to obey their leader and leave his omnipresent side.

_Send his slaggin' aft to the fraggin' Pit, Optimus!_ growled Ironhide, his powerful engine roaring as he blazed ahead to protectively drive beside Bumblebee and gently push the young mech to the far lane. There was no way in the Pit that he was letting the young Autobot out of his optical sight ever again.

_Bring it on!_ replied Bumblebee, the sound of Optimus' gears and gyros twisting to his left ringing in his receptors, _I'm not afraid of them._

"Oh, my God!" gasped Mikaela, her eyes widening as the beast-like Decepticon transformed and then ruthlessly tore through a large bus on the center lane.

_That's our Bee!_

The Pontiac Solstice and Chevrolet Camaro blazed into the city, their commander staying behind to take on the massive Constructicon known as Bonecrusher before he had a chance to reach the city. Bumblebee knew in his spark that Optimus was one of the best fighters in the universe, but the loss of his commander's frame from his optical sight did not do much to settle his frazzled nerves.

Bumblebee could faintly hear Lennox and his men discussing the arrival of the Air Force jets and the helicopters that would extract the Cube from the city. Within less than half a breem, the sounds of a fighter jet could be zooming above the city and the youngling felt his guardian shift uneasily beside him. The F-22 flew low around the skyscrapers and Bumblebee unconsciously shifted towards Ironhide as Sam and Mikaela stepped onto the street.

The F-22 flew even lower amongst the skyscrapers. Way too low to be safe.

"It's Starscream!" yelled Ironhide, quickly transforming and running towards the many abandoned trucks down the city street. "Back up! Take cover!" Of course, the older Autobot wasn't exactly expecting the little mech that appeared at his side. "Bumblebee?!"

Bumblebee simply ignored his guardian and grabbed the side of the largest truck, lifting the vehicle around the front while Ironhide gripped the right side. The older mech strained every joint in his frame to hold the bulk of the weight, desperately gesturing for the youngling to get his little aft behind him. There was no way in the Pit that the little bot—

"Back up! Back up!" Ironhide yelled, his spark pounding in his chest as he heard the sound of Starscream's engines draw closer and closer. Finally, Ironhide could take it no more and he let out a deep breath as he held the entire truck up with one mighty arm and grabbed the youngling, dragging him to his side and quickly shifting his hands once again as Bumblebee attempted to help him. "Incoming!"

BOOM!!!

Starscream launched his missiles at the street full of humans and Autobots, aiming specifically for the two mechs that stood behind the uplifted truck. One missile slammed into the front of the truck whilst the other collided directly with the small yellow Autobot that stood to the left of the old weapons specialist.

_The youngling_, thought Starscream, remembering several incidents long ago when he had seen the tiny bot firmly tucked within the protective arms of the older Autobots or clinging onto one of their towering legs, _What a pleasant surprise._

Bumblebee gasped, the brutal impact of Starscream's missiles launching him from the protective safety of the truck and Ironhide and catapulting him into a nearby building at break-neck speeds. Horrible pain seared through his lower half, his legs burning like an oven as his processor whirled and churned when his head slammed into a concrete wall to the left of the truck. Black clouded his vision as the world seemed to slow down around him, every little particle and slight sound hurting his frazzled processor.

_Optimus! _Bumblebee thought, his whole frame burning in unimaginable pain as the shouts of humans echoed around him, _Optimus!_

A dark presence grasped at his spark, thick tendrils of darkness wrapping around his young spark and causing him to shudder in sudden fear for those around him.

_Megatron!_

_

* * *

_

Yay!! Another chapter, and it seems that there will be two more chapters to come as well. My goodness, I never expected this story to be this long, but I think that Bumblebee's point of view is very interesting and I am having a lot of fun exploring it. I only hope that you enjoy reading it as well. I personally think that more people should write about his relationship with the other Autobots. I mean, he has been around them for a couple millions years after all. But that's just me.

And I plan to finish this story off before I continue with _Youngling_ and then start another short story about Bumblebee when he was really little. I promise that I'll update by this weekend. What can I say, school, sports, and work have been killing me here. Thank you for reading and I hope it lived up to your expectations!!


	8. Chapter VIII : Bumblebee III

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

Just to give everyone a heads up, I hate the fact that in the movie Jazz does absolutely **_nothing_** after Bumblebee has his legs blown off. He just sits there in his alternate form. Why in the world would he just sit there after he saw his little friend's legs get ripped right off? I just don't get it. Maybe it was because they had to cut back on the special effects because of the budget, but for some reason that part just bugged me. And why wouldn't Bumblebee be more upset over Jazz's death? So, expect to see more of Jazz in this chapter than in the movie.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Little Brother - Chapter VIII - Bumblebee III

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The towering skyscrapers loomed over the burning flames and upturned vehicles, ominous shadows falling over the crumbled ruins of the city streets that laid beneath the skyline. Bumblebee strained against the crumbled debris that had landed upon him from the explosion, the lower half of his body burning with white hot agony as the sounds of the world rumbled around him like a turbo-train. His optics dimmed as he tore through the twisted pavement with his arms, hydraulics wheezing from the effort of the short trek. 

"Are you hurt?! Everyone okay?!" shouted one of the human soldiers. The voice seemed to echo in Bumblebee's auditory receptors, the circuits surrounding the sensitive wiring sizzling and burning with horrible pain. "Clear the area!"

"Oh God! Bumblebee!" Sam gasped. Bumblebee simply wheezed in unspeakable agony, physically dragging himself out of the pile of rumble by his arms as both Sam and Mikaela ran to him with horror-struck faces. "Your legs!? Your legs?!"

The distinct twisting of gears and gyros could be heard over the loud shouts, Jazz quickly transforming and running to the side of his injured comrade without a single care for himself. The older Autobot carefully nudged the humans to the wayside and wrapped his claw-like hands around Bumblebee's upper arms, slowly dragging him from the mess of twisted steel and stone. Bumblebee clicked quietly, the pained sounds tugging at Jazz's spark like no other being ever could.

"I'm 'ere, lil' buddy, I'm 'ere," reassured Jazz, internally hoping that his familiar voice would somehow soothe away the pain that his little friend was feeling, "I've got ya, Bee."

"You alright? Please get up," pleaded Sam, his dirt-covered face crestfallen and horror-stricken at the sight of his playful, young guardian. "Bumblebee, get up! Ratchet!"

Jazz simply ignored the little human, focusing his entire attention on the little bot that was wheezing and writhing in his clawed hands. Bumblebee wasn't designed for the battlefield, his inexperience shining through when the young mech insisted upon helping the much larger Ironhide. There was no way in the Pit that the youngling would have been able to withstand a direct hit from one of Starscream's missiles.

Primus, why did the little bot have be so Pit-slagging brave and stubborn all of the time?! Didn't Bumblebee understand that he didn't need to prove himself to anyone? The entire Autobot army knew how courageous the youngling was and respected the tenacity that he showed before the menacing Decepticon Lord. Every mech onboard the Autobot battleships the _Ark_ and _Artemis I_ respected and loved the youngling with all of their sparks.

Jazz loved the youngling more than anything else in the entire universe. Nothing else could rival the devotion and love that the Special Operations officer felt towards this bubbly little creature, pride and brotherhood dominating his spark whenever he was in the youngling's presence. The thought of losing Bumblebee caused energon to rise within his fuel lines, Jazz's frame trembling with horrible fear and fierce determination. There was no way in the Pit that Jazz was going to allow those slaggin' 'Cons to get anywhere near his little Bumblebee.

Over his dead body.

The fearful shouts of the humans and soldiers could be heard all around, Sam and Mikaela the only humans willing to stand within fifty feet of the hulking robot aliens that had blown up downtown Mission City. Both humans desperately tried to comfort the injured mech, neither willing to leave his side despite Jazz's insistent nudges.

"What the **_hell_** was **_that_**?!" shouted an infuriated Lennox whilst rubbing the back of his head and shaking debris off of himself.

"What are you talking about?!" responded Epps, his grip on the handheld radio deathly tight.

"What do you mean 'what _**am **_I talking about'!!! They _**shot**_ at _**us**_!!"

"F-22 pilots would _**never**_ fly below buildings!" Epps explained, his voice thick with frustration and disbelief, "**_That's_** alien! _**That**_ ain't friendly!"

Jazz glanced at the bickering humans, his sensors beginning to buzz with signals as the Decepticon jet flew overhead and the sound of Bumblebee's pain-filled cries tore at his spark.

He needed to get Bee out of here.

"You gotta get up," encouraged Sam, his small human body imploring the little mech to fight against the pain, "You're okay. You're okay. Come on!"

Every creature on the demolished street jumped in surprise when a nearby truck suddenly blew up in a wave of smoke and flames and the sound of crumbling metal resounded from the next boulevard. Jazz quickly stood up and changed into his alternate mode, driving in front of Bumblebee and flicking his lights at the two human children.

"Take care of him!" Jazz ordered, quickly driving towards the approaching 'Con and ignoring the desperate clicks that came from his adoptive little brother.

Bumblebee clicked desperately, fighting to drag himself forward and frustrated by the fact that he could not help his comrades. He turned droopy optics to gaze at the young human male that he had been assigned to protect, his voice capacitor wheezing in unimaginable pain as he reached into a compartment on his side.

The All-Spark.

"I'm not gonna leave you," stated Sam, his dark eyes wide as Bumblebee handed the crackling Cube to him. The young human looked at Bumblebee in disbelief, his face staring at the object that his injured guardian had just entrusted to him.

It was up to him now.

The younger mech watched as his fellow Autobots charged down the demolished street, the familiar sound of Ironhide's gears and gyros twisting loudly reached Bumblebee's auditory receptors as the titanic weapons specialist transformed. Bumblebee clicked in pain, his optics dimming slightly as Ironhide twisted into a double helix and fired four missiles at the approaching Decepticon before flipping forward and avoiding oncoming missiles.

"Come on, Decepticon punk!" snarled Jazz, flipping fluidly into the air and then landing on the massive tank's back. Jazz easily grabbed the left missile launcher on the transforming tank's shoulder and viciously kicked it off before being grabbed himself and then thrown across the street.

Ratchet appeared within less than an astrosecond and flipped over the Decepticon tank, whom Bumblebee suspected was Brawl, and completely sliced the large 'Con's left arm off with his energon buzz-saw. Jazz and Ironhide wasted no time in firing countless missiles into the thick-armored Brawl, their shots soon knocking the heavy 'Con onto his back.

**_Mine!!_**

Bumblebee gasped as tendrils of darkness grazed over his spark, his voice capacitor straining to warn those around him of the approaching danger and thus ruin the Decepticon Lord's surprise attack. The young scout wheezed in desperation and clawed at the crumbled ground around him. He had to warn them! Bumblebee quickly sent texts out that warned of Megatron's approach, praying that they would actually take an astrosecond to read the little message-signal-thingy that they tended to simply ignore most of the time.

They never listened to the communications expert, did they?

The mighty roar of the Decepticon Lord soon echoed throughout the buildings and caused the scattered humans to scream in terror when the beast-like mech appeared from around the street corner. Bumblebee gazed at the titanic 'Con with pleading optics, every molecule of his spark reaching out to his dark older brother and frantically begging him to stop this pointless slaughter.

His desperate plea went unanswered.

"It's Megatron! Retreat!" yelled Ironhide, gesturing with his arms for the humans to retreat into the nearby buildings, "Move! Fall back!"

Bumblebee gazed on in horror, his light blue optics momentarily meeting the dark blue optics of Jazz when he turned around to draw back alongside his fellow Autobots. It was not until Bumblebee saw the rigid and determined attitude of the Special Operations officer's stance that he realized what Jazz planned to do, his spark freezing in his chest when he saw the older mech turn around to confront the Decepticon Lord.

_I ain't gonna let 'im get ya, Bee, _thought Jazz, his stance determined as he fought to distract Megatron from both Bumblebee and the All-Spark, _Over my dead body will I let 'im hurt ya again!_

_No!_ thought Bumblebee, frantically clawing at the ground as Megatron fired at the mech whom he loved like an older brother, _No!! Please, Megatron, don't!! Jazz!!_

_I love ya, lil' buddy_, thought Jazz as he shot at the bigger mech and then viciously tackled him when he noticed Megatron's gaze flicker towards the youngling, _An' I'll do whatever it takes to protect ya!!_

"Fall back!" yelled Lennox, his voice nothing more than a faint echo in the young scout's auditory receptors. All Bumblebee could hear was the pained grunt from the flashy mech who had both openly loved and tenderly cared for him since he was a tiny sparkling.

_Jazz!!!_

"We need air cover **_now_**!" shouted Epps, his voice a faint echo in the far distance.

Every molecule in Bumblebee's spark burned with terror when Megatron grabbed hold of the smaller mech and took off into the air. His spark begged the Decepticon Lord, his own older brother, to release Jazz. Everything seemed to slow down as the large mech flew through the air and circled around the tallest skyscraper, Jazz clutched in his vicious claws.

Bumblebee didn't even notice the two humans at his side. Nor did the youngling feel the rapid approach of the glowing presence of his eldest brother.

"Sam!" said Mikaela, her dark eyes determined and stubborn as she unhooked the chain on the back of the tow truck with deft fingers. "Help me with this."

_No!!_ thought Bumblebee, energon tears running down his faceplates when he saw the smaller mech crushed beneath Megatron's massive feet atop a towering building, _Stop it, Megatron!! Please!!_

"Come on, Megatron!" taunted Jazz, his fierce tenacity never wavering despite the fact that he knew this would be his last mission. Nothing else mattered to him as long as Bee was alive and safe from this tyrant's vicious claws. He would do _whatever_ it took to protect the youngling.

Even if it meant giving up his own life.

_Jazz!!!_ cried Bumblebee, his battered voice capacitor straining against the desperate cries that fought to escape from the mangled gears and gyros of the slowly healing apparatus. Tears streamed down his faceplates, strangled hiccups quickly drawing the attention of the humans around him. _Jazz!!_

"Bee?" questioned Sam, staring anxiously at his sputtering and injured guardian, "What's wrong…"

"Oh God…"

The two humans gazed at the mighty silhouette of Megatron against the clear blue sky, their eyes fixed on the smaller figure that was gripped within his clawed grasp. Time seemed to freeze as the scene of Jazz's death slowly unfolded before them. Anguished clicks and sputters met their ears and both teens turned to stare at the crying mech lying beside them.

"Come here, little creeper," sneered Megatron, grabbing Jazz by one of his legs and holding him in the air.

_Get away!! Get away!!_ thought Bumblebee, his processor refusing to compute the scene that was unfolding before him. Desperate cries echoed from his voice capacitor, his body writhing anxiously against the chains that Sam and Mikaela tied around him. _Please get away!! Please, Jazz!!_

"Ya wanna piece o' me!!" Jazz yelled, firing at Megatron and fighting back as best as he could against the towering tyrant's ruthless claws, "Ya wanna piece!!"

_**Jazz!!**_

"No," snarled Megatron, smirking sadistically down at the writhing mech that had taunted and mocked him for hundreds of vorns. The Decepticon Lord's sharp claws dug deep into the prone mech, wrapping around the Autobot and brutally ripping him in half without remorse, "I want **_two_**!"

**_NNNOOO!!!!_**

Bumblebee stared at the twisted form of Jazz, the silver mech dangling lifelessly in Megatron's twin claws and his dark blue optics dimming into darkness. Every human around Bumblebee skirted away from the silently crying mech, his strangled hiccups and anguished whines terrifying the humans. Sam and Mikaela quickly tied the chains around the young mech, occasionally running soothing hands over his metal plating in an effort to relieve the anguish that they heard in his grief-stricken keening and jerky movements.

"What's going on?!" shouted the familiar voice of Captain Lennox.

"Sir," yelled one of human sergeants, "That tank thing's getting back up!"

"These things just don't die," said Lennox, turning around when he heard the distinct sound of whirling rotor blades, horrified to see the massive form of Blackout landing atop one of the skyscrapers, "We're _**so**_ dead."

"Wrap it around his neck," said Sam, handing Mikaela another chain from the tow truck as Lennox and his soldiers ran over.

"Sam!" yelled Lennox, "Where's the Cube?"

"Right here," answered Sam distractedly, "Take that and wrap it around the base and then around his neck. Okay?"

"Epps! Get those Black Hawks over here!" shouted Lennox whilst gazing up at the tall building to the north of them, "That building." He quickly glanced at the old white edifice before running back to Sam and Miakela, "Alright, I can't leave my guys back there, so here, take this flare…" He pointed to the building and explained, "There's a tall white building with statues on top of it, go to the roof and set the flare and signal for the choppers."

"What?! No! No! I can't do— "

Lennox swore in frustration and grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt, pulling him down to face-level and shouting, "Listen to me, you're a soldier now! Alright! I need you to take this Cube and get it into military hands while we hold them off, or a lot of people are going to die!!" He then grabbed a hold of Mikaela's arm and ordered, "You've got to go! You need to go!"

"No! No, I'm not…" argued Mikaela, shaking herself out from the captain's grip, "I'm _**not**_ leaving until I get Bumblebee out of here!! Okay!!"

"Army Black Hawk," sounded the stern voice of sergeant Epps from atop a nearby truck, "Requesting immediate evac to civilian boy with precious cargo, heading to rooftop marked by flare."

"Sam, we will protect you!" reassured Ironhide, his titanic plasma cannons roaring with deadly promise.

"Okay," breathed Sam, his eyes fixed on the towering building.

"Sam!" yelled Mikaela, momentarily leaving the crying mech's side and grabbing a hold of the young human's shirt, "No matter what happens, I'm really glad I got in that car with you."

"Sam," growled Ironhide, the presence of Megatron causing his sensors to whir and scan at unprecedented levels, "Get to the building!!"

"Move!" shouted Ratchet.

**_"Decepticons attack!!!"_**

"Hit it!!" yelled Lennox's men, Brawl's missiles devastating the entire street and causing the ground to quiver beneath Bumblebee's prone frame.

Bumblebee clicked in frustration and sorrow, watching helplessly as Sam sprinted down the crumbled street with Ironhide and Ratchet right behind him. The All-Spark was nestled firmly in his arms, fierce determination radiating off of the little human in waves as he continued to evade the Decepticons' grasp.

"Girl!" yelled a nearby soldier, "Get that tow truck out of here!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" shouted Mikaela, frustration clear in her voice as she tried to hook the last chain around Bumblebee's injured right hip.

"Get out of here! Now!"

The young Autobot felt his frame jerk backwards as Mikaela shifted the truck into gear and quickly tore down the street and away from the rapid-firing of Brawl. Within a few moments, the distinct glowing presence of Optimus skirted around the youngling's spark and the darkness of his other brother abated slightly in the fierce warmth. In spite of this, Bumblebee soon felt light and darkness collide with one another, his spark reaching out to both of his brothers unconsciously. Bumblebee shuddered when he felt the familiar sparks reach out to him through their spark-bond.

One glowing with a white-hot light, one pulsing with a deep darkness.

Every moment that passed caused Bumblebee to become even more frustrated by his inability to help his fellow Autobots and the little humans. He felt like a coward, sitting in this dark alleyway whilst his older brothers battled one another out in the city. The tiny human soldiers fearlessly taking on the massive Cybertronians. It was little Sam Witwicky that truly amazed him, the small human heroically defending the All-Spark and risking his life to save those around them.

Bumblebee glanced back at the quivering Mikaela through the rear window, her face smeared with dirt and grime and her dark eyes haunted by the crumbling world around her. But there was also a fire burning deep within her eyes. Fierce determination shone within them and Bumblebee nodded his head in agreement, imploring the young female to help him stop the very being whom Bumblebee now knew was his own older brother.

Megatron _**was**_ his brother.

Mikaela turned around, her tear-streaked face grim as she shifted the truck into gear and whipped it out of the alleyway with lethal precision. She then drove through the street and dodged the overturned trucks before swiftly turning it into the street where the massive Decepticon tank was firing bullets upon Lennox and his men.

"I'll drive, you shoot!" she yelled, shifting the truck into reverse and driving down the street whilst Bumblebee knocked various cars out of their path, "Shoot! Shoot!"

Bumblebee fixed his optics upon the Decepticon tank, his spark pounding and his plasma cannon crackling as he fired shot after shot at the larger mech's chassis. Images of Jazz flashed across his vision, his rapid shots becoming even more and more accurate as sorrow flooded through his systems. Anger soon enveloped his spark, the thought of never seeing his beloved caretaker again causing Bumblebee to release a high-pitched click of ferocious anger and spark-wrenching grief.

_This is for you, Jazz!!_ Bumblebee thought, firing one last shot at the tank and hitting him square in the chassis.

Brawl dropped to the ground with a resounding thud as the tow truck slowed to a stop beside Lennox and his men. Mikaela hopped out of the truck whilst Lennox and his soldiers crept out of the nearby buildings, gazing at the fallen Cybertronian was a mixture of stunned awe and complete relief.

"Nice shot," Mikaela complimented, giving Bumblebee a light pat on the arm as she walked over to Lennox and his soldiers.

"The tank is definitely dead now," murmured one of the soldiers.

"Alright, let's go!" yelled Lennox, "We gotta do this!"

Bumblebee leaned back against the tow truck, his entire frame burning with white hot pain as his energon finally slowed down for more than an astrosecond. The impact of Jazz's death nearly crushed his spark, making the young mech silently cry in anguish and shudder against the comforting hand that Mikaela placed upon his forearm. The thought of possibly losing Optimus to the same fate almost made the youngling weep in fear, his young age shining through for the first time throughout the battle.

The young mech could _feel_ the battle of fists and emotions that his older brothers were waging against one another, his spark reaching out for the glowing presence of his eldest brother. Bumblebee didn't want his other brother to die, but there was simply no choice if they wished to save both Cybertron and Earth from destruction.

Bumblebee knew that Megatron would kill them all, human or Cybertronian alike, if he believed that it would further his own fanatical plans.

He would even kill his own brothers.

The sound of an anguished roar echoed throughout the city and caused Bumblebee to turn towards the north as Mikaela started up the truck once again. A sudden emptiness filled his spark, nearly suffocating the youngling as he frantically searched through their spark-bond for Optimus' glowing presence. He was extremely relieved to feel the warm presence of his oldest brother, but when he soured the bond for his darker brother all he felt was…

Nothing.

Bumblebee whimpered slightly at the yawning cavern that had seemed to engulf the spark-bond that he shared with his older brothers, never before realizing that his dark older brother, Megatron, unconsciously contributed almost as much to the spark-bond as Optimus himself. Despite his cruel intentions and malicious betrayal, Megatron was still their brother and the sudden void that Bumblebee felt in his spark was testament to that unbreakable fact.

"You left me no choice, brother," whispered Optimus, his voice as anguished and grief-stricken as Bumblebee's own spark. None of the other beings around them, be they human or Cybertronian, would ever know how deeply the death of the Decepticon Lord had effected them.

The universe had lost a tyrant.

They had lost a brother.

The tow truck had came to a stop beside the prone frame of the Decepticon Lord, light blue optics staring at the gaping hole where his older brother's spark had once been until it had merged with the All-Spark.

"Prime," whispered the anguished voice of Ironhide, his arms tenderly holding the mangled frame of his close friend and loyal comrade, "We couldn't save him."

Bumblebee nearly choked at the sight.

"Oh, Jazz…" Optimus breathed forlornly, gingerly taking his dead friend's frame from Ironhide and cradling the battered form in his thick arms. "We lost a great comrade, but gained new ones. Thank you, all of you. You honor us with your bravery."

Bumblebee gazed at the ground, barely reining in his emotions and controlling the words that came out of his voice capacitor as he spoke, "Permission to speak, **_Sir_**."

The hopeless yearning to call Optimus by another title was almost overwhelming, but Bumblebee managed to stomp down the urge and reminded himself that Optimus had carefully hidden their relation for a reason. The young Autobot remained regretfully silent around the Autobot commander and stoically kept his opinions to himself. Albeit he knew that Optimus was kind and understanding, Bumblebee's emotional systems overruled his rationale systems and convinced him to remain silent or be faced with the worst possible scenario…

Rejection.

"Permission granted, old friend," rumbled Optimus, gazing down at the little bot that was chained to the truck with soft blue optics.

Bumblebee internally flinched at the last two words the mighty mech had spoken, his spark desperately craving to reach out to the older mech and truly feel their sibling-bond for the first time in many vorns. But Optimus' spark was closely guarded, the bond between the two brothers never fully opening since Bumblebee had reached an age where he could consciously do more than reach out to his brother's spark.

"You speak now?!" said Sam, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"I wish to stay with the boy," Bumblebee requested, staring up at the mech that he now knew was both his Creator and his older brother. Sam and Mikaela had become good friends to him, and Bumblebee truly loved being in their presence.

"If that is his choice," responded Optimus, his piercing dark blue gaze scrutinizing the youngling before him.

"Yes," answered Sam.

Optimus gazed at the different beings around him before leaning over his dead brother and removing a piece of the All-Spark from his mangled spark casing. The towering Autobot commander gripped the small fragment carefully within his hand, his dark blue optics meeting those of his fellow Autobots.

The All-Spark was gone.

* * *

_Several joors later…_

Optimus stood over the resting forms of his comrades, their frames lying lazily in the warmth of the setting sun that contrasted beautifully with the pink and purple sky. The outlook seemed to almost glow beneath the blazing sphere of light, Optimus himself fixing his gaze on the barely visible stars.

The quiet clicks of the youngling drew his attention away from the stars and to the text message that was visible on one of his internal screens. The message that he and his comrades had written to send to their fellow Autobots:

_With the Allspark gone, we cannot return life to our planet. And fate has yielded its reward: a new world to call home. We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret, waiting, protecting. I have witnessed their capacity for courage, and though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime, and I send this message to any surviving Autobots taking refuge among the stars: we are here…_

We are waiting.

* * *

Yay!! The last official chapter of this series which I started back in...oh, I guess it would be mid-July. I plan on writing a very short epilogue to finish this story off & then I'll finally be done!! And no, I do not plan on writing any stories about the future of the Autobots because of the two sequels that will be coming out within the next few years. If you have any suggestions for the epilogue, I'd be happy to hear about them!! Thank you for reading & I hope you have enjoyed my stories so far!! 

But if you wish to read a story very similar to my own I suggest that you read Plasma & Sparks by lady tecuma, which uses many of my ideas very skillfully and she has a lovely writing style. The story also explores Optimus' relationship with Bumblebee and I absolutely love how she has written all of their progressing relationships with one another. If you have read my stories, then this one is a must-read. Thank you.


	9. Chapter IX : Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

Just to say thank you to everyone that has been kind enough to take a few minutes of their time and read my stories. I love to write in the little spare time that I have from school, sports, and work, which makes me even prouder of my stories since everyone seems to like them and they usually seem to turn out fairly well despite my rush to finish them. I am almost sad to see this series end, but I must say that it'll be a relief to be able to focus on my stories about baby Bee. Thank you for reading and reviewing!!

And the term femme-magnet comes from the story Mojo Mayhem by Phoenix13, a truly brilliant story that I suggest everyone read. Simply hilarious.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Little Brother - Epilogue

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The warm night breeze that blew through the thick trees of the northern California woodlands which stretched into the neighboring state of Oregon was a welcome relief to the resting Autobots and their human companions. Exhaustion and exasperation with both the local authorities and the government had proven to be too much for the aliens and the tiny beings that had helped them put an end to Megatron. Even the great Optimus Prime could feel his circuits beginning to surge and frizzle within his massive frame as the regulations for him and his soldiers were finalized by Secretary Keller. 

It was about one month after the epic battle in Mission City when Optimus finally came to a decision…

They needed a vacation.

Optimus and his fellow Autobots had been enamored by the beautiful forests and long-stretching coastlines of the northern Californian border, the abundance of life in the national parks stunning the long-living aliens. Everywhere they looked or scanned there was another little creature that they had never seen before, scurrying about their immobile forms with endless curiosity and excited chirps. The little sounds emitted by the creatures almost sounded like…

Click. Click. Click.

The Autobot commander gazed down at the slumbering youngling, his dark blue optics temporarily grazing over the four brown tents that surrounded the towering tree at the center of the small woodland grove. His internal systems revved slightly, the sight of the youngling tugging at his ancient spark and filling him with protective warmth. Every moment that was spent in Bumblebee's presence was like a sacred blessing from Primus, no matter how small or short the time period.

Quiet purrs emitted from the young scout, his small frame curled up in the crook of Ironhide's right arm and using the older mech's plasma cannons as pillows. The little bot had sluggishly sat down beside the weapons specialist not too long after the humans had retired to their tents, falling into recharge within astroseconds and slowly lolling into slumber upon his guardian's thick side. Ironhide had not had the spark to disturb him, no matter how embarrassing the situation.

_If only you knew how much we love you, little one, _thought Optimus, reaching out to the youngling and running tender fingers down his faceplates, _If only you knew…_

The youngling clicked softly in his sleep, turning his head into the familiar hand that slowly rubbed small circles upon the back of his tiny head, nuzzling the massive palm like he had when he was a little sparkling. Optimus himself clicked softly in reply, continuing to massage the young scout's head as Ironhide subconsciously tightened his grip on his much smaller charge, instinctively protecting the youngling even whilst deep in slumber.

Optimus smiled at the warmth that he felt around his spark, tiny tendrils of energy that were wholly Bumblebee grasping at his core of life with familiar little hands that had become the charismatic Autobot commander's greatest weakness. No other being, be they sparkmate or brother-in-arms, could compare to the little creature that he himself had created all those vorns ago.

Without Bumblebee, the great Optimus Prime would wither away.

Droopy baby blue optics slowly opened and proceeded to look around for about one breem before gazing sleepily up at the towering mech, their deep blue hues shining in the moonlight and reflecting off of the light silver metal that surrounded them. The quiet rev of Bumblebee's recharge cycles resounded in Optimus' receptors, alerting him to the fact that the youngling was still in partial recharge.

"Sleep, little one, I'm here," whispered Optimus, his deep baritone and soft hands lulling the young scout into recharge once again, "I'll always be here."

The Autobot commander gazed down at the youngling with complete adoration, his deep blue optics slowly scanning over the slight contours of his faceplates and the bright yellow paint that gleamed in the moonlight. His expressive optics were shuttered and his internal systems revved quietly in slumber, limbs curled tightly into a little ball with Ironhide's protective arm firmly wrapped around him.

Everything about the little mech was perfect.

Optimus could not even fathom what his life would have been like if he had never created the bubbly little youngling. Bumblebee's bright little spark was like an endlessly burning star, always lighting the dreary world that Optimus lived in whenever he was in the mischievous bot's presence. The death of Megatron had already formed a permanent void in Optimus' spark, the loss of his brother's life effecting him more than he would ever show to those around him. And Optimus knew that Bumblebee felt the irreparable loss as well.

The towering Autobot had noticed the young scout staring off into space on quite a few occasions, his normal bubbly air dissolving into a cloud of melancholy whenever he looked to the night-darkened sky. Although Bumblebee had never met with Megatron on good terms, the little bot had still felt the Decepticon Lord's subconscious presence at all times. And the sudden loss of that presence, no matter how unfamiliar and dark, was quite distressing to the youngling.

Optimus knew that hiding his and Megatron's relation to Bumblebee was wrong and possibly upsetting for the little bot at times. Especially since they were in such close proximity to one another most of the time, but Bumblebee's safety had always been his first priority and if not telling him of their relation ensured his well-being, then so it. No matter how much it hurt his spark, Optimus would never put the youngling in danger for his own selfish needs.

The Autobot commander knew that as long as Megatron's most loyal followers, namely Shockwave, still existed; there was still an increased threat towards Bumblebee's life if they knew of his relation to the great Optimus Prime. He only hoped that none of the Decepticons had been clever enough to discern Bumblebee's relation to Megatron as a result of the few times they had encountered one another during Bumblebee's younger vorns.

Megatron had never been discreet about his relation to the little Autobot until later vorns, never directly stating their relation albeit Megatron had revealed his ability to sense the youngling's spark quite a few times. And Optimus had no doubt that at least a few of the Decepticons had heard their conversation at Beta Nebulae. Primus knew that many of his Autobots had stared at him with questioning optics for many vorns after the incident.

Fortunately, Megatron had become slightly more cautious as the vorns passed, his blood red optics watching the youngling whenever they encountered one another in battle and his voice capacitor becoming watchful of the words that left it. It had only taken his older brother a short time to theorize the reason behind this change: Megatron had a traitor amongst his troops and feared that they could possibly use his little brother against him.

Of course, this theory meant that Megatron harbored feelings besides animosity towards the youngling and actually feared for his safety to an extent. A rather shocking revelation for the Autobot commander. Despite Megatron's merciless regime, Optimus had come to the conclusion many vorns ago that the ruthless Decepticon Lord did feel some degree of love towards their little brother.

If only circumstances had been different…

Nevertheless, Optimus knew that Bumblebee and himself would slowly recover from the sudden emotional blow over time. But the mighty mech also knew that they, as Megatron's brothers, would forever feel a deep void within their sparks.

Nothing could change that cold, hard fact.

The threat of the Decepticons still loomed over their heads, eternally clouding the calm atmosphere that the Autobots had begun to feel when in the humans' understanding presence. Although he knew that his fellow Autobots would respond to his message and soon arrive on Earth within a human year, the danger of numerous Decepticons landing before his own—

"Why in the seven galaxies are you still awake, you slaggin' lugnut?" growled the familiar baritone of his weapons specialist. "Primus knows you're as tired as the rest of us."

"I'm thinking," Optimus replied, gazing off into the clear night sky.

Ironhide shifted slightly, adjusting the little bot that was curled up in his arms and rumbling an annoyed, "You're always thinkin', that's your problem."

"Someone has to do it," he retorted, shooting the black mech an exasperated glare, "Or else we would have all been off-lined long ago."

"Hey, you do what you do, I do what I do," grumbled Ironhide, his thick fingers running over the cannon that Bumblebee's head rested on, "As long I get to blow apart a few 'Cons at the end of the orn, all is good."

Optimus simply smirked at his old friend, leaning against the same towering elm and placing a gentle hand atop the youngling's tiny head. No matter how old Bumblebee got, Optimus still felt as if he had to protect the little bot from the entire universe. He wondered if that feeling would ever change?

The two older mech's deep blue optics met one another for one astrosecond, both of them mirroring what the other felt towards the clever young scout. Never would they stop protecting this precious creature that the oldest Autobot held in his arms. Nothing in the entire universe was more important to Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Jazz than the little youngling.

Nothing.

Optimus looked over at Ratchet, his optics falling on the tiny compartment on the medic's right chassis panel that housed the remaining fragment of the All-Spark. The life of their dear friend depended on that little fragment, and Ratchet had been working long joors to bring Jazz back to them.

He had sacrificed his life for Bumblebee.

The loyalty and devotion that Jazz had shown towards the young scout had surpassed every bond that Optimus had thought that the two bots had formed over the vorns. The death of Jazz had proved how important Bumblebee was to the Autobots and that many of them were willing to give up their lives for the youngling despite…

Click. Click. Click.

Bumblebee purred quietly in his sleep, shifting into a more comfortable position that included snuggling even further into Ironhide's side, wrapping his little arms around his guardian's monstrous cannons, and then using said cannons as pillows. It was quite a sight, to say the least. And mister-hard-edged-and-cannon-totting-and-planet-blowing Ironhide did absolutely nothing to change it.

"Go to sleep, Optimus," advised Ironhide, his dark blue optics shuttering as he tightened his hold on the youngling, "Or else I'll wake this little rascal and slag him on you."

"You wouldn't dare," rumbled Optimus, gazing warily at the sleeping youngling. Awakening Bumblebee from recharge was like setting an atomic bomb off overtop a heavily populated city; potentially lethal to all parties involved, no matter their allegiance. Every time the youngling had been awoken early…well, Optimus' auditory receptors still to this orn ached at the thought of waking the little bot from recharge.

"Wanna bet?" sneered Ironhide, one optic open and staring at his commander with a smug expression.

"Fine, fine, I surrender," conceded Optimus, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture, "I'm going into recharge."

"Good," rumbled Ironhide, "Slaggin' femme-magnet."

Optimus leaned back against the tree and started his recharge cycle, patiently waiting for his old friend to fall back into slumber before leaning over the little head that rested upon Ironhide's right plasma cannon. He gently rubbed the youngling's faceplates before softly kissing the top of his head, quietly whispering, "I love you, little brother."

Only the midnight stars heard his confession.

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Yay!! It's finally done!! Completely done!! My goodness, this has turned into quite the long story, I never expected this little thought/concept to become the epic that it has morphed into over the past two months. Wow. I hope everyone has liked it & enjoyed reading it. I know that I have definitely enjoyed writing it. Now I can get started on more little Bumblebee stories. Thank you all for reading & I hope that this epilogue has lived up to your expectations!! 


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